The Night of the Peacemaker
by Andamogirl
Summary: Following a Civil War-related mission (and related too to Artemus Gordon's past as spy for the Union), President Grant sends James West and Artemus Gordon into the Indian Territory in the dead of winter to stop a possible war between the Crow and the Cheyenne Indians. But, of course, things are not going to happen as planned…
1. Teaser

**THE NIGHT OF THE PEACEMAKER**

 **By Andamogirl**

Author's notes: end of season 4. The Night of the Diva-episode tag, following my story "The Night of the Dreadful Mistake." Reference to this story.

In The Night of the Diva Ross Martin is still lean after having lost several pounds from his illness following his heart attack. I'm going to give a WWW explanation for his character's loss of weight.

Reference to my stories "The Night of the Outlaw", "The Night of the Deadly Machine", The Night of the Wolves", "The Night of the Disguised Assassin" & "The Night of the Lost Pirate Ship".

References to the following WWW episodes: "The night of the Legion of Death", "The Night of the Turncoat", "The Night of Miguelito's Revenge" (Artie was on his way to Washington) and "The Night of the Winged Terror (1)", "The Night of the Diva", "The Night of Montezuma's Hordes" & "The Night of the Sedgewick Curse."

When I created Dr. Stephen Anderson's character the first actor coming to my mind to play him in my stories was Richard Anderson. I was a fan of "The Six million dollar man" in the 80's and my favorite character was Oscar Goldman. Richard Anderson died on August 31, 2017.

This story is dedicated to him. RIP.

 _Dr. Loveless: And man can relax. No more worries about power, wealth, or wars. He will have found his Garden of Eden._

 _Artie: If I remember correctly, there was a snake in that Garden._

 _Dr. Loveless: Very clever, Mr. Gordon._

 _Artie: I knew you'd appreciate it._

 _Dr. Loveless: Ah, there you are._

 _Artie: No you have us confused with somebody else. We're over there._

 _Dr. Loveless: Mr. Gordon, you're such a wit._

The Night of the Raven

Many thanks to my beta reader Tripidydoodah.

Warning: blood & injury. Graphic violence. Hanging (nightmare). Nudity & naked cuddling. Implied sex (nothing graphic).

Enjoy the reading!

WWW

 **TEASER**

 _New Orleans_

 _On the Wanderer,_

 _Artemus Gordon's sleeping compartment_

His white and gold uniform gone, hanging in the costumes closet, the decorations gone too and placed back in their box, Artemus Gordon sat down at his dresser and started removing his phony moustache sighing heavily in relief.

That horrible soirée with Rosa Montebello was fortunately over but would remain engraved in his memory forever. It was the first time in his whole life that he hadn't enjoyed the company of a woman and had to invent a credible lie not to spend the night with her, he mused.

He pulled his fake sideburns off too saying, "Goodbye, Colonel Vladislaw of Hungary… I enjoyed playing the character but not the play…" And rubbed his tired face. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and added, "If I am a 'rustic American peasant', she's an Italian… pest!" Hearing a knock at his door Artie turned to his right and looked up at Jim. "Oh! Hey Jim! How was your soirée with Miss Collingwood?" His face grew somber and not giving his partner the time to say something, he added, "Far better than mine, I hope. Feeling that woman against me, kissing me and purring against my neck made me want to run away to the end of the world, and I couldn't." He opened a jar filled with moisturizing cream and he spread it over where he had applied the glue to stick his phony sideburns, moustache and beard. "I usually love having ladies in my arms… and I can say there's one exception now."

Smiling Jim nodded. "I know that. You probably broke the hearts of dozens of young and lovely women when you left Washington to come here… I had a good time. She's a lovely and a very intelligent young woman, Artie. We both enjoyed each other's company, the other guests' company and the Champagne and the buffet. I took her back to her house after the soirée and kissed her goodbye."

More than surprised, Artie let out, "Really? Since when did you kiss a lovely woman and go home right after that? That isn't like Jim the _séducteur._ "

Jim nodded. "I know, but I had only one thing on my mind tonight:, you."

Stunned Artie asked, "Me? What for?"

Leaning against the doorjamb his face suddenly very serious and reflecting obvious concern, Jim crossed his arms on his chest and gave Artie and pointed look. "I should have asked you this before, but when we met again, I was so happy to find you that I forgot to ask you this: what happened to you in Washington, Artemus?"

Caught off guard by the question, Artemus visibly flinched then he resumed what he was doing as if nothing had happened. His expression was blank, but his eyes betrayed his discomfort. "Nothing special happened," he said, his baritone voice neutral.

Doubtful, Jim continued, "Nothing? Look at you Artie! You lost weight and you look like you haven't slept in weeks. You look exactly like the man you were before leaving the Secret Service for a 6 months sabbatical on that ship, Artie. I mean you have lost weight again and you look bone tired again. When you came back from your European tour, you were as healthy as a horse, with even extra padding thanks to good cuisine."

Lowering his eyes to his flat stomach and slender hips automatically, Artie said, "Well, I had to taste all my dishes before proposing them to the crew to see if they were good... I didn't want to be hung high and short to the foremast, and there were good restaurants in all the ports where we stopped. I brought back a lot of recipes, by the way and I'm going to test them all, on Sundays."

Frowning, intrigued, Jim continued, "Then two days after your arrival President Grant asked you to help him with a delicate affair so I had Jeremy Pike assigned to me again and I left for the South. And I was Artie-less, again, for two months. I couldn't go back to Washington to see you I was so busy." Moving closer to Artie, then standing beside his best friend he looked at the other man's reflection in the mirror, "What happened in those two months, before transporting Miss Rosa Montebello here?"

Rubbing dollops of moisturizing cream on his neck, Artie responded, "Nothing special. Working for President Grant is exhausting… That man doesn't sleep. He works around the clock… and as his personal aide, I had to follow his hectic schedule. I didn't have a single free moment for myself. I was exhausted… and of course, I ended up like this…"

Glowering at Artemus, Jim replied, "It's a _lie_."

Not replying, Artie kept a poker face and continued what he was doing, imperturbable, his now unreadable eyes riveted to his reflection in the mirror.

Not letting it go, Jim continued, "The first part of what you said is correct, I was General Grant's aide de camp and I know the man, but the second part, about you not having a single moment for yourself is a lie because the last time you were in the Capital, after that mission with those faux Conquistadores, you had plenty of free time and enjoyed every minute of it in gallant company. I remember the President telling Frank and me, I quote "I hear there's been a steady influx of lovely young ladies since Artemus has been assigned to us there…" so being in Washington wasn't too hard on you – at that time. I'm sure it didn't change." He paused. "So why do you look again like the emaciated and frail man you were after that six months stay with the Comanche?"

His eyes dropping to his lap Artemus flinched again, but in pain this time as images of his ordeal with his Comanche friends invaded his mind.

Seeing Artie's reaction, Jim said, "I'm sorry, Artie. I didn't want to hurt you." But determined to know the truth, Jim went on. "What happened in Washington the last time you where there? He crossed his arms on his chest, waiting. "I'm waiting and I won't leave this room until I know the truth, and only the truth."

Sighing Artemus closed his eyes, pushing away the atrocities he had witnessed to the recess of his mind, and then looked up apologetically at his partner. "I'm sorry I lied to you. I promise I won't do it again. But I didn't tell you anything because I'm fine now and I didn't want to bother you with something that's over." Then he wiped his hands with a towel.

Now very worried, Jim asked, "You're fine, _now_? What happened to you?"

The older man sighed again. "Before I transported that exasperating Diva here, I was at the Military Hospital, in a coma, for two months. And that's the truth."

Jim stared down at Artemus incredulously and felt the chill run down his back and croaked, "What?"

Leaning back in his chair Artie explained, "I had a heart attack, Jim, again." His throat closed up suddenly and he rasped, "I almost died. I spent one month and three weeks at the U.S. Military hospital in a deep coma. As I was unable to eat and drink I was given food and fluids via a flexible tube. Dr. Henderson saved my life doing this. It was a brilliant idea. You see, he placed a flexible feeding tube through the abdominal wall and into the stomach. It allowed nutrition and fluids to be put directly into the stomach, bypassing the mouth and esophagus. I 'ate' puréed food essentially, that's why I lost weight and that's why I'm still fatigued. But besides that I'm fine. Dr. Henderson wouldn't have released me otherwise – after a whole week of medical examinations, almost round the clock." He placed his hand on Jim's arm in affection. "I'm sorry, Jim, I should have told you this earlier, after I came back but… I repeat, it was over and didn't want to bother you with that. I'm fine now, but a bit underweight, I know, and I need to sleep a lot too."

Utterly upset, Jim furrowed his brow, but his anger wasn't directed at Artemus. "Why did nobody tell me that? I could have been at your side Artie, like I always do when you're hurt. You were alone." And that thought made his stomach sink.

The older man sighed. "There's an explanation as to why, Jim. Colonel Richmond told you nothing about it because the President ordered him to stay quiet, Jim. I was in good hands and President Grant didn't want you to come to Washington while you had important missions with Jeremy Pike and Frank Harper. He could have telegraphed you, but you wouldn't have been able to focus on the job being far too worried for me – and thus could have put yourself and your partner's life in danger. Your distraction could have gotten you and Jeremy or Frank injured or worse killed. He didn't want that." He smiled and added, "Besides, I wasn't alone, my mom and Harry visited me twice a week and Grant spent a lot of time at my side, as much as he could, you do know that he kind of adopted me during the war… He even installed a temporary office in my room to continue his work while keeping an eye on me." He chuckled. "My hospital room was an annex of the Oval office. Of course, as I was deeply unconscious, I didn't notice anything. I was told later when I was awake."

Jim relaxed. "I understand, but next time I see the President I'll tell him that I'm not happy and that I resent what happened."

Artemus grinned. "I'm sure you will, and sooner that you think, James my boy. I received a telegram from Washington just after I came back here. The President wants to see us both as soon as possible. He received new death threats and as he has a series of meetings scheduled in the coming weeks, he wants us to be at his side, to protect him."

Jim nodded. "There's something that intrigues me too. If you spent weeks on a bed, why are you tanned like you had spent them outside?"

Smiling Artie looked again at his reflection in the mirror of his dresser. "Ah! You noticed that too. Well, Dr. Henderson took me out in the garden of the hospital as often as possible. Lying on a gurney I took sun baths because Henderson thought it would help me to regain some strength. And he was right, thus my tan. He thought too that hearing people talk, and birds sing, and the different noises coming from the street nearby would lead me toward consciousness. But it didn't work."

He stood and stretched like a cat, briefly closing his eyes and moaning.

Curious, Jim asked, "Did the President order you to wake and you woke, like he did after that man Robert tried to strangle you?"

Artie chuckled and said, "No, that didn't work either. But hearing President Grant scold General McGarrett with his thundering voice like he was a bad boy caught with his hand in a jar full of jam, in my room - just did. I woke up and said, "Oh keep quiet, people are trying to sleep here". He grinned. "The looks on Grant and McGarrett's faces were priceless."

Both Jim and Artie burst out laughing. Then Artemus repeated, "I'm sorry I lied to you. I promise I won't do it again."

He looked so contrite that Jim couldn't help but give the other man a hug. He stepped the few inches closer to his partner (again), reached out and enveloped Artie's lean body in his arms in a tight embrace. "I know, buddy, and I forgive you. I'm glad you're back."

He grinned happily then. Artie was okay and back with him.

Grinning happily too, to be back with Jim and that his partner (again) had forgiven him, Artemus wrapped his arms around Jim's strong body and let his chin rest on his shoulder. "Thank you," he said chocolate eyes watery from unshed tears.

WWW

 _One week later in Senator Greenhouse's residence_

 _Washington D.C._

Ulysses S. Grant moved closer to the buffet hungrily eying the different trays filled with delicious food and glasses of cool, bubbling Champagne – followed like his shadow by James West.

As the President reached out for a canapé, Jim cleared his throat and said, "I wouldn't do that, Sir. They could be poisoned, and the Champagne too."

Grant frowned, upset. "Everyone here is eating those canapés and drinking Champagne, Mr. West. They're not dying from ingested poison or are already dead, poisoned. Look around you."

Imperturbable, Jim said, "They are not dying or dead, yet, Sir. It could be a slow poison. With all respects, Mr. President, let me remind you that two days ago the assassins didn't hesitate to place a bomb in Governor Keller's dining room and lock you in it with the Governor and all his guests. 80 persons in total. Thankfully Artemus managed to defuse it and mass murderer was avoided. They are ready to do anything to kill you, Mr. President, and killing innocent people in the process won't bother them, at all."

The President nodded and sighed. "You're right, I have to be careful." He looked at all the people attending the reception chatting over Champagne, imagining everyone dead, poisoned, and suppressed a shiver. "Speaking about your partner, where is Artemus? I don't see him tonight."

Jim smiled broadly. "But he's here, Sir, _undercover_ to surprise the enemy just in case something happens."

Ulysses S. Grant nodded. "He's undercover? You mean that he's disguised?… Hmmm… Let's see if I can spot him." And the President scrutinized all the men in the room, the musicians from the string quartet playing light music included, because Artemus was a concert-level violinist - trying to recognize his other agent – and failed miserably. He glanced at Jim and said, "Alright, I didn't find him. He's very good, but I already know that. Where is he?"

Chuckling softly Jim pointed at a tall, thin blonde woman wearing a green dress talking to Colonel Morton from the 7th Cavalry, both standing next to one of the French windows. "Actually, Artemus is a _she_ tonight, Sir. He bought a new dress recently – because of his weight loss, the old ones being now too large for him - and he wanted to test it tonight, at the reception." He chuckled softly. "Well, it would seem that that Colonel Morton finds Artie's company very pleasant."

Grant's eyes zeroed in on Morton and then focused on the pretty woman holding his arm. He chuckled too. "He's a remarkable man, you partner, James. He really is a master of disguise. And he's, I mean _sh_ e's quite lovely indeed."

Observing Artie's gaunt-sculpted face (no mask) covered with perfect make-up to prop up the illusion, Jim nodded. "I know, Sir, and I know too… that I almost lost him three months ago." Looking at Grant, his brow furrowed in disapproval he added, "He told me about what happened to him Sir." There was a slight accusatory tone in his voice.

Staring at his agent the President pursed his lips, frowning slightly in irritation at Jim's inappropriate look and tone in his voice and then he said. "Then he told you why I didn't want you to know about his condition? I did what I thought was right." He then added, in a commanding tone, "And there will be no more discussion about it, Mr. West."

Jim almost stood at attention. "Yes, Sir."

President Grant headed toward the faux-woman wearing the green dress immediately followed by Jim. Stopping beside her, he said, "I haven't had the pleasure of meeting you, Miss…?"

Slowly turning around with a rustling of fabric, Artemus blinked, facing the President, then he quickly recovered from his surprise. He caught Jim smiling and winking at him and knew that he had told Grant who Miss McGordon really was. He made a quick curtsey. "My name is Artemis McGordon," Artemus said with a perfect soprano voice in line with his character. "It's a great pleasure and a great honor to meet you, Mr. President."

Grant smiled broadly and suppressed a chuckle. 'What a man! A man of many talents!' he thought, with great admiration. "Could we have a moment, Miss McGordon? I would like to talk with you, it's important." Glancing at Colonel Morton, he added, trailing off, "Colonel Morton? If you please…?"

The superior officer saluted. "Yes, Sir." Then he left, reluctantly, glancing back at his gorgeous conquest, now framed between the President and his bodyguard.

Grant pulled a cigar out of his inner pocket, bit the tip, put it in his side pocket and waited for Jim to light a match for him.

Smiling, Jim mouthed, "You're amazing, Artie."

Miss McGordon smiled too and said, "Thank you so much _Mister_ … you know how to talk to ladies," playfully using a flirtatious tone.

Once it was done, Grant smiled and said in a low voice, "Behave, Artemus." Then he took a drag from his cigar and exhaled, blowing out a cloud of sweet blue smoke as he observed his other agent from head to feet. Artemus Gordon looked incredible. The other man was wearing a sleek blonde wig with long locks, his face was powered white to hide his tan and his lips were painted in red to match with the varnish coloring his faux nails. He had a double string of pearls around his neck and above, a large feathery ribbon (hiding his Adam's apple) was tied. He had clipped gold earrings, and the long-sleeved (to hide his masculine musculature) pale green silk dress adorned with white lace he wore set off his new figure quite nicely, and as Artemus had round hips, he knew that he was wearing a corset – and of course fake breasts on his flat chest. Black lace gloves camouflaged his male hands. His high-heeled shoes were green too but darker. He took another puff from his cigar and impressed and appreciative, he let out, "Fantastic!" Then, 'playing the game', he asked, "Well, Miss McGordon, are you enjoying the reception?"

Smiling, Artemis nodded. "Yes Mr. President, everything is perfect – _so far_."

Jim glanced around him seeing if they could speak privately and noticed that almost all the guests had gathered around the musicians as the dancing was about to begin. "Did you notice something Artie?" he asked.

His face strained Artie shook his head. "No, nothing for now – but… but I have a bad feeling. Like the bad feeling I had the last time in Governor Keller's house," he replied with his woman's voice.

Jim frowned, alarmed. "Mr. President, I'd like to suggest you to leave before something bad and potentially deadly happens."

Concerned for his own safety, a frown creased Grant's brow as he nodded. "You're right. I totally trust Mr. Gordon's instincts. They saved me a dozen times during the war and also since I took office."

They were heading toward Senator Greenhouse to say goodbye to the politician when a dozen people suddenly stumbled and slumped to the carpeted floor. Almost all at once.

The room erupted in chaos. Immediately there were screams and panic on the part of the Governor's guests still standing… who crumpled quietly into a heap to the floor, in a grand ensemble a few seconds later. And a heavy silence settled.

Jim knelt beside the Senator lying at the foot of the 'grand escalier' and took his pulse while his partner removed his black gloves, dropping them to the floor. Then Artemus pulled up his dress and petticoat to grab the gun holstered there and strapped to his calf.

"He still has a pulse. He's simply passed out," Jim said. He examined a couple of guests and added, "They're still alive too." He glanced at all the unconscious people and added, "They were poisoned, all of them."

Imitating his partner's actions Artemus said, "Except us, as we didn't eat or drink anything. I'm sure it's the Champagne. It's easy to slip poison in it – a strong sedative as it happens. They were dosed with a powerful sedative, not poisoned, so there's no need for an antidote. They will wake up in a few hours with a pounding headache and nausea. Those who did this wanted us all to be unconscious, especially you Sir. Killing an unconscious man is easier…"

President Grant nodded, "And cowardly. It's a good thing that none of us drank that drug-laced Champagne… or I would be dead by now."

Jim nodded. "Let's go back to the White House, Sir."

Framed by his two agents Grant headed toward the entrance hall and was surprised (like Jim and Artie) to find a blond-haired woman hiding there, behind a chair.

She looked panicked, tears had ruined her makeup and she was trembling with fear. "Oh my God! They're all dead!" she said. "I opened the door and I saw all of them fall on the floor – dead. What happened?" And she started sobbing.

Slowly, gently, Jim reached out, "Take my hand, you're safe. I'm a federal agent." And smiled when she did. He took the women in his arms and said, "Calm yourself, Miss. They're not dead, just unconscious. You can't stay here, Miss, it's not safe, you'd better come with us."

The terrified woman nodded and parted from Jim. "Thank you, Sir. My name is Amelia, Amelia Ferguson." She opened her reticule to pull out a handkerchief. She gently mopped her tears while observing Miss McGordon attentively. Then an interrogative frown barred her forehead and she asked Artie, "Do I know you? Your face seems familiar to me…"

Holding his small gun Artemus carefully observed Miss Ferguson in return, his inner little voice telling him something was wrong with her but couldn't say what. "I don't think so," he said with his soprano's voice. "Without thinking he focused on the lips and noticed a small double v shaped scar marking the skin under the lower lip. He frowned searching his vast memory. He started his musing: he knew that tiny scar, yes, it belonged to… it belonged to… to… 'I know that. It belongs to…'

The young woman smiled. "I'm feeling much better, thank you." She said, putting her handkerchief back in her small handbag.

Furrowing his brow in concentration, Artie was still trying to put a name on that distinctive scar. "Come on, old man, you never forget a face, a name…" he thought with now a cold feeling in his chest. His eyes suddenly opened wide in surprise as he finally found what he was searching for. "Barney Finn! Barney, it's you!" he exclaimed, so stunned that he used his own baritone voice.

More than surprised, faux-Amelia Ferguson froze for a couple of seconds then took a step back. "Artemus? Is that you?" The disguised man said, with his own voice too, recognizing Artie's voice.

Artie's eyes flashed. His expression was full of anger and rage. "I'm going to kill you!" he said to Finn who didn't look surprised but to Jim's stupefaction.

But before that, with his shoulder, he suddenly pushed the President to the side in a protective move, gave his small revolver to his partner and leaped on the faux other woman. They both rolled on the floor and started fighting, exchanging hard punches.

Grabbing Ulysses S. Grant by his arm Jim lead him at top speed to his carriage waiting outside in the street and pushed him inside without any ceremony.

Looking at the Captain commanding the escort he ordered, "Take the President back to the White House as quickly as possible and be on your guards! If anyone attempts to stop the carriage shoot to kill!" then he hurried inside to discover that the two phony women had lost their wigs and were still fighting, dirty, and that his partner wasn't winning, he noticed in concern.

He was ready to intervene when he caught his pointed gaze telling him to stay out of this and he complied. It was a personal matter.

Growling Barney landed a punch to Artemus's midsection and Artie bent over in pain, but didn't take long to recover. He aimed a very nice uppercut at his adversary's jaw with all the force he had but Finn leaned back to avoid the hit. He shoved the agent and another punch came. It landed squarely in the middle of his chest. Artie grunted.

In response Artemus pulled his clenched fist back before driving it straight into the other man's cheekbone. Finn took a few steps backward, regaining his footing. "Not bad, for an old man!"

Suddenly Artemus lunged forward and propelled the weight of his body into Finn's chest, slamming them both into the wall. He slammed his forehead into Finn's, rocking the other man back and the faux Amelia Ferguson crashed against a dresser sending the precious French earthenware vases flying everywhere.

Breathing hard, Artie blocked one punch but missed the second which caught him on the mouth, splitting his lower lip. He stumbled feeling light-headed.

Finn landed his fist in Artemus's stomach and the older agent doubled over and gasped for breath, staggering to the side.

Artie received another hit, and another; each blow harder than the last.

Seeing this, Jim rapidly divested two still unconscious men of their belts, raised Artie's gun and fired to the ceiling. "That's enough!" he shouted before Finn could deliver another blow onto his partner's bruised and bloodied face.

The two men immediately stopped hitting each other wildly and they both took a couple of steps back, glaring at each other.

Breathing raggedly Artie gave his partner a black look. "I could have handled him!" he rasped angrily and then he bared his teeth, red from the blood running into his mouth from where his teeth had cut into the inside of his cheek, at which Finn hearing him snickered.

He surged forward, in full-blown rage, diving for the panting shorter man and tackled him to the floor. He pulled back his fist, ready to drive it down into Finn's cheek. He growled when he felt Jim catch his wrist, closing his strong fingers around it, immobilizing his arm. And, as he was ambidextrous, using his other hand balled into a fist, he punched Finn's nose, twice, hard. He grinned when he when he heard a bone breaking and a loud groan of pain.

Blood started pouring out of Finn's broken nose. Then Artemus started throwing punch after punch. He only stopped when his raw knuckles started to bleed.

Holding the gun, Jim let Artemus pummel Finn's face. His best friend had a personal problem to settle with the other man.

But after that, he would ask Artie what it was, he thought. And after a couple of minutes, he tugged his best friend by the back of his torn dress and pulled him upright. "That's enough, now!" he said, not to protect Finn but his best friend. Artie was breathing hard, his face was reddened by the effort and the knuckles of his left hand were bleeding.

But Artie wasn't finished with Finn. He kicked the shorter man's unprotected groin, twice, anger flashing across his face, hissing something in Indian language under his breath.

Hissing in sympathy Jim then said, "Ouch!"

Feeling the pressure on his right wrist loosening, Artie smiled broadly, feeling a sick satisfaction as the other man curled on himself cradling his most-likely-bruised private parts while crying and whimpering in pain. "Let me go!" he rasped out, and Jim let him go, stepping back. Then he headed toward a chair, his legs wobbling beneath him, and chest heaving, he croaked, "Told you I could handle that…" His nose and mouth bleeding, he collapsed on the chair and wiped the blood with his non-injured hand, smearing it on his cheek. "I told you…" he trailed off. The pain was making him dizzy.

Frowning, upset, Jim said, "I don't think you could handle that. Not in your state buddy." Then he used the belts he was holding and quickly secured Finn's wrists and ankles as the man was grunting in pain.

Lowering his throbbing and ringing head in his aching trembling hands, Artemus realized that Jim was absolutely right. He was clearly out of shape. 'Come on, old man, after a two months coma, and your resultant weight and muscle loss what did you expect? To be able to fight like Jim? It's good to be back with Jim, to be his partner again like before, but you forgot one big detail: you forgot that you're still recovering from your heart attack, and you forgot too that Henderson warned you that you wouldn't have your strength back for several weeks…The next time, and there will be a next time, no doubt of that, let Jim do the fist-fighting. You are unfit to fight for no more than one minute and furthermore, Jim adores it,' He thought. Then, looking up at Jim he said, "Thanks, Jim," his voice weak.

Moving closer, Jim lifted Artemus's face to assess his injuries. "It's a pleasure." He frowned in concern as he noted his best friend had a badly bruised cheek and jaw. His left eyebrow was cut, blood flowing onto his cheek. His nose and lower (split) lip were bleeding too, as well as his left hand. He pulled out his handkerchief from the inner pocket of his jacket and gave it to the older man. "You okay Artie?"

Artemus nodded using the handkerchief to mop the sweat burning his eyes. Then he pressed it to his injured eyebrow. "Ya, I'm okay Jim, I've had worse," he responded. Looking at his ruined dress covered with blood stains he heaved a long distressed sigh. "Oooh… no! Nooo! That was my only dress Jim – at my size I mean. I paid a fortune for it! It was made specially for me by my tailor. It is so damaged I can never repair it."

Jim chuckled. "I'm sorry, Artie, but you saved the President's life twice already, I think he'll be more than happy to buy a new one for you if you ask him." He looked down at Finn trying to get rid of the belts immobilizing his limbs amidst grunts and groans. "I don't know who he is, but you do, Artie, and I'm sure that you don't like him, and that's an understatement, am I wrong?"

Brow furrowed, Artie followed his partner's gaze and looking down at Finn he mustered up the most contemptuous look he could manage. "No, you're right. I hate him. I know that I shouldn't have reacted that way, it's very unprofessional, but I couldn't help it… after what he did to me." He wrapped the handkerchief around his left hand and added, "It's Barney Finn, Jim. He's a _traitor to his country_ ," he said, then he spat out blood and saliva mixed, to the floor beside the assassin. "He's a turncoat! Barney was an actor like me before the war. He wasn't a member of my troupe but we were friends. We were both famous for our disguises and transformations. When one of the female members of his troupe was sick, Barney posed as a woman and no one – me included – could see if he was a man or a real woman. He was very good, and still is, that's why I didn't recognize him earlier, but I did recognize the double V scar he has under his lower lip. He forgot to hide it under his make-up, fortunately for us because he had a gun in his reticule."

On that, Jim retrieved the handbag, opened it and found a small gun inside. "You're right. He wanted to kill the President with this. He's a killer." He nodded. "This time the assassins didn't use a bomb but drugged the food and the Champagne and asked Barney here to do the job."

Mopping blood from his face with the reddening handkerchief, Artie added, "It's a good thing that we and the President didn't eat or drink anything, or Grant would be dead by now."

Jim pulled up a chair and sat beside his best friend and very curious, he asked, "What about the battle of Chattanooga?"

Pinching his eyes shut for a few seconds the older man winced. "It's a long story, later Jim… I don't feel too good." His hands were badly shaking. He started to list forward.

His eyes heavy with concern Jim placed his hand on Artie's shoulder. "Is it your heart?" Then he anxiously reached up to his partner's neck to check his pulse.

Raising his head, Artie batted his best friend's hand away clearly irritated. "No, it's not my heart…" Noticing Jim's crestfallen expression he said, "I'm sorry… I shouldn't have done that, I know that you're worried about me and thus in overprotective surrogate brother mode…"

Raising his finger, Jim interrupted the other man. "In 'brother' mode, period. Did you forget that you and I are blood brothers? And that your mother sorta adopted me?"

Smiling, Artemus nodded. "I didn't." He paused and explained, "I suppose I reacted that way because I'm irritated each time something is linked to my heart attack… It's an epidermal reaction I can't by definition, control. I suppose that I'm allergic to anything medical-linked… or approaching following my whole week of almost constant medical examinations. I was fed up with that."

Trying to soothe Artemus, Jim let out, "A least the nurses were lovely…?"

Dizzy, Artemus shook his head and regretted it as his headache had worked its way to a full blown migraine. He

sighed. "I didn't see a single nurse for a whole week, I just met them when I was ready to leave the hospital. They were so disappointed not to have taken care of me, and I also not to have been pampered by them that I kissed them all – twice. Henderson banned them from my room. He wanted me to rest, not to woo his whole female staff." He grimaced in pain again. "It's not my heart… No, it's just a massive, pounding migraine; he punched me on my head… It's nothing serious but I'm still seeing stars everywhere." He winced and massaged his aching forehead. "I could use one of my painkillers but I'll live, don't worry."

Suddenly a dozen armed soldiers entered the ball room. The officer moved to the two agents and saluted. "I'm Lieutenant Bennett. Captain Morris safely escorted the President to the White House, Sirs." He said. "He sent me here with my men to help you."

Immediately Jim stood and pointed at Finn lying on the floor who was tugging at the restraints. "Bring that man to the Secret Service headquarters for questioning. He tried to kill the President."

Bennett snapped his fingers. "Yes, Sir! Sergeant! Take six men and escort that man to the Secret Service headquarters. Guard him with your life!"

The sergeant saluted. "Yes Sir."

Two soldiers roughly pulled Finn upright and the assassin gave Artie a murderous look and, his face twisting, he snarled, "Goddamn you, Artemus! You won't be able to protect Grant next time. He will die. We'll see to that. And then you will die too, with him. My friends will kill you Artemus, slowly, painfully."

Finn hissed insults to them through clenched teeth two soldiers dragged him outside, the sergeant and four other soldiers followed them.

Lieutenant Bennett glanced around him. "We're going to take care of all the people here, Sirs. You should go to see a doctor."

Helping Artie to stand and supporting him as his partner was swaying on his feet, Jim nodded. "Good idea. Artie, let's go to see your favorite doctor."

Staggering, because everything had started spinning, Artie grimaced. "I'm so very thrilled," he gritted through his teeth.

He heaved a long sigh, utterly exhausted.

Tbc.


	2. Act One

**THE NIGHT OF THE PEACEMAKER**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT ONE**

 _Later in the U.S. Military Hospital_

 _Washington D.C._

Laid on the examination table, on his back, the cut to his left eyebrow and lower lip stitched, his face glistening with a layer of salve for the bruises, his left hand bandaged and wearing white pajamas, Artie closed his eyes, falling fast asleep.

Dr. Henderson CMO removed his gloves; put the now empty syringe on the tray sat on the cart and patted his patient's shoulder. "Sleep well, Artemus." Then he looked at Jim, worried, standing on the other side of the examination table and said to the other agent, "He's going to be alright. I injected him with a mild sedative. He's resting soundly now. He should wake in a couple of hours or so."

Reassured, Jim nodded. "What happened to Artemus two months ago?" He asked Henderson. "Tell me about his heart attack."

Henderson seized the occasion that Artemus was back in his office to auscultate him. He unbuttoned the pajamas top and placed the disc-shaped part of his stethoscope on Artie's chest. "He was dining tête à tête with the President when he felt the first signs of a heart attack – I mean he felt a violent chest pain, radiating to his back, his jaw, his shoulders, his arm and left hand and finally to his stomach. He also felt very weak, was left breathless and was suddenly very tired. Artemus immediately recognized them as he had had a cardiac arrest before and told the President he needed to go to the hospital as soon as possible." Looking at Artie's prone form, Jim said, "Yes, I remember. He died for a few seconds and then you brought him back using an injection of epinephrine, which in case of cardiac arrest, permits the return of spontaneous circulation and instant resuscitation."

Dr. Henderson nodded. "That's right," he said and continued, "President Grant had him transported here in a matter of minutes. He didn't call an ambulance, it would have taken too long, and each minute counted, so he just ordered a soldier to saddle a horse, to put Artemus across his saddle and gallop to the Military Hospital. He was laying on this examination table when his heart stopped. He died for a few minutes – again. Unfortunately I didn't have any epinephrine left. Then I had the idea to use that portable resuscitating device with metal paddles with insulated handles functioning with electricity that Artemus built for me after Dr. Loveless electrocuted him with his infernal machine. Thankfully, I managed to revive him. Artemus calls this device Electric Resuscitating Device, or ERD."

Impressed Jim nodded. "Quick thinking and well-done, Sir."

Henderson nodded. Then he placed the tubes connected to earpieces in his ears and carefully listened to his patient's heart. "Pulse is strong and regular, good, good," he said, pleased by the results. He placed his stethoscope around his neck and looking at Jim he added, "I brought him back but unfortunately, he stayed in a coma for two months. When he woke up he was his old self, had no lasting effects. Comas are tricky things… He was lucky to regain consciousness with his brain intact. Others don't have such luck. Three of my recent coma patients woke up with brain damage, like slurred speech, trouble with memory, loss of coordination and disorders of consciousness. As he was totally unresponsive we had to force feed him with liquid food and hydrate him too with a flexing tube. As a result, he lost weight. And as bathing in the sun is good for your health I made him sunbathe every day in the garden of the hospital, for several hours." Looking back down at his patient Henderson smiled. "Any other man would have died, but not Artemus Gordon. You and I both know how strong-willed he is and he survived."

Frowning, Jim placed an affectionate hand on his best friend's arm. "Was he suffering?"

Stephen Henderson shook his head. "No, he wasn't. His face was slack, expressionless. His whole body was completely relaxed. He didn't feel anything."

The younger man nodded, relieved. "Artie told me that the President had installed an annex to the Oval Office in his room."

The CMO smiled. "That's true. You know like me how the President feels about Artemus here." His smile suddenly vanished. "On a more serious tone, Artemus is now out of danger, but the risk of having another heart attack still exists. People like Artemus who have had heart attacks before are predisposed to have another one – which is generally fatal."

Frowning, worried, Jim nodded and asked, "You're not going to kick Artie out of the Secret Service because of that, are you Doctor?"

Because he knew that the CMO of the Washington Military Hospital, in charge of the medical follow-up of all secret service agents had the authority to do so.

Henderson didn't respond right away. He explained first, "I told him that with his heart condition being like a Damocles sword hanging over him it would be better for him to step down, leave the Secret Service, to have a calm and peaceful life, away from his current stressful existence, so he can take care of himself. And the stress is not the only cause leading to heart disease. I did an extensive study on the subject and discovered, after treating many patients affected by heart conditions, that heart attacks are generally linked to high blood pressure and bad health habits, like drinking a lot of alcohol, smoking a lot, and not doing enough physical activity – but I think we can skip that one in Artemus's case."

Glancing at Artie, now snoring gently, Jim put his hand over Artie's chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall. "Since that mission at the famous Sedgewick Spa, with those kidnapped patients with that rare disease, that blood disorder called Lubbock's Distemper, Artie has started to prepare 'health food' for us. I didn't like it at first, but I appreciate it now. But on Sunday, we make an exception. He doesn't drink much, except when he has to play the role of a man who drinks a lot, as for smoking, well, he still has to work on that. He loves cigars."

The CMO of the Washington Military Hospital nodded. "Especially those awful cigars the president offers him. I didn't know that, and I'm glad to hear it." He paused and finally responded to Jim's question, "I won't kick him out of the Secret Service." Relieved, Jim smiled. "President Grant would never sign his discharge. And Artemus refused to resign from his post."

Jim's smile broadened. "I'm not surprised he refused, Sir. Artemus loves his work, he lives for his work, and it's his whole life."

Henderson continued, "I told him that he should resign in order not to put you in danger during a dangerous mission that could cost you your life, if he had another and fatal heart attack. He refused, firstly because no one could predict if he would have another heart attack one day, which might never happen and secondly because in case he died of a heart attack, you would continue the mission until its completion, without him. Then you would bring him home, bury him, grieve and mourn him."

Glancing down at Artie, Jim nodded. "He's right. That's exactly what I would do." Looking back at the physician he asked him, "What can I do to help Artie?"

Stephen Henderson looked back down at his sleeping patient. "Ensure that he continues to have a healthy lifestyle and limit the stress."

Jim replied, "It is doable for the first, unfeasible for the second… It comes with the job. But I promise that I will keep an eye on him, doctor."

WWW

 _In the evening, in the Oval Office_

President Grant offered a long, fat cigar to his two best agents and said, "Thank you very much gentlemen, you saved my life, again."

Jim turned toward Artie. "Well, Mr. President, I didn't do much, Artemus here did the entire job. I just well… manhandled you to your carriage."

Ulysses S. Grant looked at Artemus noticing his stitched left eyebrow and his bruised face. He frowned in concern. "How do you feel Artemus?"

Artie smiled reassuringly. "I'm alright Sir. Thank you."

Grant nodded and lit his cigar before the other men did the same. "Good! The prisoner, Finn, he didn't say a word. He refuses to talk," he announced.

Artie nodded and proposed, "Perhaps he'll talk to me, Sir. We know each other well… or rather we knew each other well, past tense. We were friends even, before..."

The President nodded. "Yes, I know." He frowned angrily. "Finn changed sides and betrayed you, his partner, he betrayed his uniform, his General – me – and he betrayed his country during the Chattanooga Campaign, giving you to the Confederates."

Swallowing, Artemus's shoulders sagged in sadness "Yes, he did, and he killed the man who was accompanying us, an infantry sergeant of the 13th United States Colored Infantry. I was training him to be a spy; he was a Crow warrior, the only one among warriors coming from the Delaware tribe and much of the Creek peoples. His name was Daxpitcheehísshish, it means Red Bear. He was the son of Búattaaxalusshish, Running Coyote, the Chief of the Awaxaawaxammilaxpáake, in English 'Mountain People' grouping. He was my friend, Sir, my first Indian friend. I miss him."

The President nodded. "I remember. The 13th United States Colored Infantry served under the command of Colonel John A. Hottenstein, a very good officer. I authorized that 'formation' and signed the order to transfer the sergeant under your supervision."

Staring at Artie, Jim wasn't surprised to hear that for the first time. He knew that his partner kept entire parts of his past as a spy secret because he didn't want to talk about them. It was still painful, he thought. 'But as he has started to talk about that story, let's hear the rest of it…' he added in his mind. Curious, he asked, "What happened?"

Taking a deep breath, Artemus responded, "We had recognized the Confederates' movements of troops and their positions when we encountered a patrol. As we wore gray uniforms they didn't pay attention to us… but Barney suddenly pointed his gun at me and said, "Hey guys! We're Union spies. I want to desert and join you." Then he killed Red Bear as he was grabbing his gun to protect me. After that he pointed his revolver at me, again telling the now interested Grays, "He's Captain Artemus Gordon, General Grant's personal spy…" Then he leaped on me. We crashed to the ground and he hit me with his gun. I lost consciousness." He paused. "I woke up with my hands above my head, attached to the branch of a tree. I was naked. Barney was there, at the Gray's sides, smiling, and he took great pleasure watching the soldiers beat me up…" He sighed. "I still can feel the burn of their belts on my back sometimes."

He looked again at his smoking cigar, lost in his thoughts, images from his 48 hours ordeal coming up to his mind and he paled and trembled.

Pressing Artie's shoulder in a comforting gesture, Jim said, "If you don't want to continue to talk about this, then stop. I wouldn't be upset."

For one minute Artie paused, regaining composure and looking up at Jim he added, "It's okay. I'm good. The Gray soldiers had fun with me for two days and nights, beating me up and humiliating me… Then, Barney's conscience came to the fore and he killed the Confederates before they hanged me. He dressed me in the fatigues of a simple Union soldier I had hidden in a secret part of my saddle bag, to stay discreet when I was back behind our lines, put me on a horse, mounted his, then he led me a few miles away and left me there, saying that with my luck I would be captured by a Confederate patrol and end up in a POW camp. And if I wasn't lucky, I would end up dead in a muddy pit. I don't remember anything after that… I was barely conscious, plunged in a kind of thick torpor… I don't know how I managed to survive and to rejoin the Union forces…" He rubbed his head automatically. "That part is still blank. I tried to remember but it's eluding me." He sighed and added, "A Union patrol found me and I ended up in Dr. Henderson's hands."

Ulysses S. Grant nodded. "For the first time, if I remember correctly. You were a mess Artemus, but Stephen saved your life."

Artemus smiled. "And he keeps doing it, Sir."

The President narrowed his eyes, upset. "For my part I'd like the two of you to meet Dr. Henderson the least possible, especially you, Artemus. You have the unfortunate tendency to be hurt more than once during each mission. Despite what you think, you're not invincible. Am I clear?"

Standing at attention in his chair, Artie said, "Yes, Sir. I'll do my best. But as you know, I don't have a very peaceful profession. Injuries come with the job, Sir."

Jim nodded. "Speaking of profession, it would be more prudent to postpone any other engagements until Artie and I find those assassins, Sir."

The President shook his head. "That's impossible. My next public appearance is scheduled tomorrow at noon at the Congress building park. A lot of people will be attending the ceremony after that. You have until tomorrow noon to find those assassins, gentlemen. I suggest you start by visiting Mr. Finn in his cell and make him talk in order to find the others."

The two agents nodded. "Yes Sir."

His eyes sparkling in time with a brilliant idea burgeoning in his mind, Artie said. "And I know how." Looking at the President he added, "I'd like to have a letter from you Sir, giving Jim and I _carte blanche_ to interrogate the prisoner."

Grant nodded, "Consider it done," then he sat behind his Louis XV style table and took a sheet of blank paper and a fountain pen.

WWW

 _Later at night in the Secret Service building_

Two hulky armed guards were framing the plain metallic door when James West and Artemus Gordon showed them their identity cards.

They searched the bag Artie had with him – finding inside a box containing make-up, a large bowl, a bottle filled with a thick blue liquid, another one with a white liquid, scissors,, and a mask reproducing the face of the owner of the bag and a salt and pepper wig.

Seeing that the guards were looking at the two bottles suspiciously, Artie explained, "They each contain a special component to make masks. It's harmless and I have the authorization to have that material."

Jim took out a letter from his inner jacket pocket and gave it to the tallest guard. "Here it is. The President himself signed it. That letter grants us the right to do anything regarding the prisoner."

The guard read the letter, gave it back to agent West and opened the heavy door. "Everything's in order. Just call if you need anything, Sirs," he said.

Jim and Artie entered the dimly lit cell a couple of seconds later and discovered Finn sitting on a bunk, his ankles chained to the thick stone wall painted in gray. There was a table and a lone chair in the room. The light was provided by a single candle.

Finn immediately shot a murderous glare at Artemus who ignored it superbly. "I won't tell you anything, you're going to waste your time," he offered and then tightened his jaw.

Jim sat astride on the sole chair that was in the window-less room and as for Artie, he placed the bag he was holding at his feet and leaned against the locked door, his arms crossed on his chest, observing Finn's face with attention. It was heavily bruised and he had two black eyes, on each side of his broken nose. Soon he would 'wear' a copy of it.

Looking at Artemus Finn relaxed and smirked. "It has been a long time Artemus," he said. "Do you remember the last time we met, I mean before today? You were in pretty bad shape. The Grays had a lot of fun with you. It was a miracle you were still alive when I saved you from being hung. It's still vivid isn't it? Those long, interminable hours of torture and agony are burnt in your memory forever, right? I'm sure can you feel phantom pain sometimes… Boy! Your back was just a bloody pulp!"

His face a mask of granite, Artie asked, "Why did you hand me over to the Confederates Finn? We were friends, we were partners. I trusted you."

Finn grimaced in disdain. "Why? Because I was jealous of you of course. And also because I didn't want to live in your shadow anymore. You were _perfect_ Artemus: you were a master spy! You were a master in disguise, a sweet talker, you could manipulate people like no one else, you could take on any kind of accent, use any kind of voice; you were good with any weapon and you invented formidable gadgets, and Grant loved you like you were his own son! I was just your sidekick. I had to get rid of you to exist, to prove to myself and to the others that I was good, as good as Artemus Gordon!... So I decided to change sides, to have a new and better life in the Confederacy were I would be a master spy myself! I offered you as a gift, to be accepted by the Grays… and it worked. But my blasted conscience couldn't leave me in peace! So I saved you before it was too late. I regret it now. I should have let them hang you."

Artemus nodded his eyes as cold as ice. "But fortunately for me, you did, and I'm not going to thank you for that, of course. And you became an assassin…"

Finn beamed. "Not at first. I was a spy for a few months then I found a more lucrative job and a less dangerous one. I worked with counterfeiters, and after the war I became a hitman, using my talents to disguise myself to kill the designated target, and I'm proud of it. I'm a now a renowned hitman and I earn a lot of money for each contract. I'm not one of Grant's lapdogs like you are."

Jim turned toward his best friend reading barely controlled boiling anger in his chocolate eyes. To calm down his best friend he just said, "Artie, the bag, buddy." Then looking at the prisoner, he added, "You were a renowned hitman, past tense. Soon you will be a simple prisoner in a federal penitentiary and you will spend your days breaking rocks."

Ignoring Jim and what he had just said, Finn added, "Remember Red Bear Artemus? That Crow Indian who wanted to be a spy? While you were unconscious, one of the soldiers, called Miller… scalped him! Then he hung his scalp from his saddle as a trophy."

Paling in horror, Artemus went rigid. Then he tightened his fist, knuckles turning white.

The prisoner smirked with satisfaction and then continued, pleased to hurt Artemus. "I kept a few of his belongings too, as souvenirs. His necklace and beaded belt he wore under his uniform jacket. You remember the place where we met that patrol? The Confederates threw the Indian's body in the river where we met the soldiers. He floated for a while then ended up in a large hole under a willow tree, probably dug by some beavers, on the opposite bank and disappeared inside. I'm sure his bones are still there…"

Eyes turning darker with rage and intense desire for vengeance, Artie's lips thinned and he clenched his jaw. He moved toward Finn ready to smash his grinning face.

In a split second Jim placed himself in front of his partner, and said, "Calm down buddy. He's nothing. Don't pay attention to him."

Closing his eyes for a moment, making a visible effort to calm himself, Artemus sat the bag on the table. He opened it and retrieved what was inside: the large bowl and the bottles, one containing a thick blue liquid and the other a more fluid white liquid.

Seeing the prisoner who was intrigued furrow his brow, Jim smiled and explained, "Artie is going to make a mask of your face, Finn. Then, posing as you, he'll be transferred nightly for a better security to the closest federal penitentiary. I'm sure that your friends outside will free him, somehow. Arte is going to infiltrate your ring of assassins and then we will arrest all of them."

Finn shook his head and moved back on his bunk. "It won't work. They will know that he's not me when they talk to him. There are a lot of things he does not know…They will suspect something and will not trust him, they are very suspicious, especially the chief." Looking back at Artie who was still glaring at him, he added, "You're going to be killed Artemus."

Jim smiled. "You forget that Artie is very talented. He can do anything. He recently replaced the President and no one saw the difference, even his closest collaborators."

Finn stood up, his fists raised, lifting his chin defiantly. "I won't let you make a mask of my face," he said to the older agent, watching him pour the thick blue liquid into the large bowl.

Sniggering Artie moved toward Finn, holding the bowl. "Jim, could you neutralize Finn, please? I need him to be immobile."

"Sure thing, Artie," Jim said. He stood and then punched the prisoner right on his chin and Finn collapsed on his bunk knocked out. "Done."

At once Artie sat on the edge of the bunk and poured the thick liquid on the assassin's face. It rapidly covered it and dried almost immediately. "It's a new compound I developed. It takes only a few seconds to dry and become solid and the result is perfect. The face is reproduced to perfection, even the smallest details, like Barney's double V scar for example."

He removed the solidified blue material from Finn's face and then poured a little of the white liquid inside, rolling it in his hands to spread it evenly in a thin layer. "I have also improved the product that I use to create my masks. They are now so thin they are undetectable. They dry rapidly too."

Sitting back astride the chair, Jim said, "I'm sorry about what happened to that Crow Indian… He was your friend."

Sighing, Artie nodded. "Yes, he was. I had never worked with an Indian before, and I discovered an excellent soldier and a brave man. We became friends, and I miss him."

A pause.

He removed the mask of Finn's face one minute later and looked at it. "See? It's perfect!" proud of himself he bowed his head. "You may applaud." He chuckled when Jim did and then started to work on the mask so that it was an exact copy of the original.

WWW

Half an hour later, Artemus Gordon looked exactly like Barney Finn.

He pulled out the mask of his own face from the bag. "Now, I'm going to transform a guard into myself. If one of the assassins is outside, like I think there is, he'll see us both leaving the building. He won't suspect a set up, and even less suspect that someone could pose for Finn."

Jim smiled. "You're right. Good thinking, Artie."

Pleased and proud, smiling, Artie bowed. "Thank you," he said.

WWW

 _Later in the street outside the Secret Service building_

Barney Finn (Artemus Gordon) his wrists and ankles shackled was roughly pushed inside the barred coach and the two guards escorting him climbed inside in their turn.

Then the coach slowly headed toward the corner of the street.

Nothing happened in the large and animated streets of Washington, but once in the outskirts of the Capital… a group of black-clad and hooded riders, armed with guns and rifles emerged from a wood and rapidly encircled the heavy vehicle.

The non-armed guards (except with batons) raised their hands.

Shortly after they found themselves tied up and gagged inside the coach, lying on the floor – as Finn was standing outside, being unshackled.

Finn-Artemus rubbed his sore wrists and looked up at the man who gave orders. "Thanks," he said imitating Finn's voice perfectly. "Let's get out of here." He mounted the horse his friends had brought for him and soon everyone disappeared in the wood nearby.

WWW

 _Later, in the middle of the night_

Faux-Finn dismounted two hours later in front of a white manor surrounded by hundred-year-old oaks and looked around him – doing his best not to show his surprise. 'I know this place, I came here once, it's Senator Simpson's house', he thought. 'He's the big one leading that group of assassins?' He followed the other men inside the vast house and they all stopped in the middle of the vast hall.

Senator Simpson appeared on the landing, at the top of the stairs leading to the second storey. "Ah! Mr. Finn, I'm happy to see you free," he said.

Not-Finn looked up at the old man and nodded. "And I'm happy to be free, thanks."

Simpson smiled and came down the stairs. He headed toward the not-hitman and stopped in front of him. His face was harsh. "You failed, Finn," he stated. He frowned. "I thought you never did."

Faux-Finn swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. I encountered an unforeseen problem. Artemus Gordon recognized me under my disguise – he and I know each other, we met during the war - and I was captured. But I didn't say a single word to those agents of the Secret Service. I swear."

The Senator nodded and pulled out a double Derringer from the pocket of his jacket. He put the circles of the twin barrels directly in the center of Finn-Artie's forehead and said, "Are you sure, Finn?" He narrowed his eyes with suspicion. "You could have agreed to cooperate with the Secret Service against a remission of sentence ... and if so, the house could at the moment be surrounded by the police…"

Finn-Artemus felt a wave of worry rush over him as he nodded. "Yes, I'm sure. I didn't say a word. The police are not here. I know I failed but it won't happen again, Sir," he blurted out.

Simpson's face hardened. "No, it won't happen again."

Opening his eyes in (feigned) fear faux-Finn gulped. "Please don't kill me, give me another chance. I'll try to kill the President again, and I will succeed. I promise."

Simpson showed his best crocodile smile. "If you fail again Mr. Finn, I'll kill you myself. I recruited you for your talent of to impersonate anyone… use that talent to kill Ulysses S. Grant."

Not-Finn nodded. "I know how, Sir. I will pose as Artemus Gordon during the President's next speech. He won't suspect anything. I will be standing beside Grant and I will have a gun. Killing him will be easy and I will use the following confusion to remove my mask, and escape."

Simpson smiled. "That's an excellent idea. I love it! You will shoot Grant dead. Excellent. Grant's next speech is scheduled in two days, at noon. I'll be there… watching him die. What do you need?"

Faux-Finn rubbed his chin pensively. "To be Artemus Gordon I will need to use his clothes and especially I will need the products he uses to create his formidable masks. The ones I brought with me have deteriorated and I can't use them anymore. And there's only one place where I can get all those things, his place. 'And I'll leave a coded message for Jim' he added in his mind.

Senator Simpson nodded. "Alright. Gordon lives with his partner in a train called the Wanderer. The train is probably stationed on a sidetrack at the railroad station." He looked at his top henchman standing beside the hitman and added, "Hopkins, will help you to enter the Wanderer without anyone noticing. He uses a lockpick like no one else."

Finn-Artie nodded. "Alright, that's a good plan, Sir."

The Senator nodded. "Hopkins will then take good care of Mr. Gordon, so you can replace him at the President's side. He's excellent with a knife too."

Hopkins grinned.

WWW

 _The next morning, in the Wanderer_

Sitting on a bench in the railroad station with a good view on the rear platform of the Wanderer Hopkins and faux-Finn saw Jim West leave the train around 0900 then waited for Artemus Gordon to leave too, but after him no one else exited the train.

Sitting beside Simpson's top henchman Finn-Artemus nodded. "See? He locked the door. Gordon's not inside. He's probably in the White House with the President. Let's go!"

Using a lockpick, Hopkins quickly opened the door leading to the parlor suite. He let out an appreciative whistle and looking around him he said, "It's beautiful! It's like a luxury hotel – on wheels!"

Faux-Finn with Parker in tow visited the galley, Jim's sleeping compartment and then entered his own private place. "It's Gordon's room," he said.

Hopkins was surprised to hear that and asked, "How do you know that Finn?"

Disguised-Artemus pointed at a wig lying on a small worktable. "The wig. Gordon is a master of disguise… but I'm better than him!"

He opened the cabinets and cupboards, revealing several dozens of costumes, wigs, and boxes filled with phony medals and jewelry. There were complete collections of false beard, moustaches, and sideburns too. He showed Hopkins four make-up sets and two sewing kits and several pairs of shoes, for men and for women. He turned toward Hopkins standing in the narrow doorway, holding his gun. He smiled broadly in genuine enthusiasm. "He has everything! I'd like to have all of this, it's fantastic!"

Hopkins shrugged. "Looks like he's a freak!"

Feeling insulted Artie's nostrils flared and he frowned angrily. "No, he's not. He needs all this for his missions… " He calmed down and added, "Like I need my own disguises for mine."

Hopkins sniggered, "You're a freak too!"

Finn-Artemus left the room and entered the lab shortly after; finding other wigs there sitting on mannequins' heads. He looked around him and spotted a clay pad and a bottle filled with a thick white liquid. "Excellent! I have all I need to be Artemus Gordon." Holding them in his arms he went back to the agent's sleeping compartment and took his place at the dresser. He looked at Hopkins and said, "Let me alone, I have a lot of work to do and I don't like being observed when I'm working. Don't come back before one hour or so. I'm sure you'll find some good whisky somewhere, now go! Out!"

Hopkins whispered, "Freak," and closed the door.

Smiling, Artemus removed his salt and pepper wig, the thin and realistic mask he was wearing and Artemus Gordon's face appeared reflected by the mirror. "Hiya, Artie! It's good to see you again buddy," he said, before broadening his smile. He raked his fingers through his hair and touched his face covered with colorful bruises from the events at Senator Greenhouse's residence. Then he brushed the stitches on his lower lip. "No need for make-up," he said. Then he continued, "It's good to get rid of that traitor's face and to see your handsome one again! Now let's make the perfect mask – ever! Your own face, old boy."

WWW

 _Later in the parlor car_

Real-but-pretending-to-be-faux Artemus Gordon entered the parlor car of the Wanderer one hour later, holding a bag, finding Hopkins sitting on the couch a glass of whisky in his hand. "How do I look?" he asked touching his bruised right cheek.

Stunned, the Senator's henchman looked up at the other man with his eyes opened wide and he let out, "Whoa! Is that really you Finn?"

Smiling, Artie rubbed his black and blue chin proudly. "Yes, it's me. Impressive isn't it? Artemus Gordon does have the right things to create masks, but he doesn't have my talent. I'm looking exactly like him – bruises and stitched lip included. Even his dear mother couldn't see the difference."

Hopkins was very impressed and let out an appreciative whistle. "It looks like you were badly beaten, Finn and it looks like real bruises!"

Smiling Artie nodded. "Yes, impressive, isn't it? I'm very good." He looked down at his clothes. "Gordon has stylish clothes." He was wearing a brown jacket with black collar, brown pants, black shoes, a white shirt, a gold, white and brown waistcoat with flower pattern and a black tie. "I like it. And, as Artemus Gordon be dead soon, he won't notice all this missing from his closet."

Hopkins stood up, downed the rest of his liquor in two gulps and put his glass on the coffee table. "You will wait at your hotel until I get rid of the real Artemus Gordon. Then I'll come to fetch you, okay?"

Faux-but-real Artie nodded. "Okay." He pointed at the empty glass. "Take that with you. We must not leave any trace of our presence here; I don't want James West to put his nose into our affairs. I left Gordon's compartment just as I found it."

Pocketing the glass, Hopkins said, "Let's go!" then he headed toward the door, not seeing Artemus discreetly drop a small paper ball on the coffee table.

Hiding a smile, Artie closed the door behind him and watched Hopkins use his lockpick again but this time to lock the door. 'It's your time to play, Jim,' he thought.

WWW

 _Much later in the Wanderer_

Spotting the small paper ball sitting on the coffee table Jim immediately knew that someone had come on board the train while he was gone.

It wasn't there when he had left the Wanderer two hours ago.

He raised his left hand, signaling Colonel Richmond accompanying him to halt and grabbed his gun. "Stay here, Sir. Someone came here uninvited, and he may still be here," he said.

Richmond pulled out the small gun he kept in his back, in a holster. "Go! Find the intruder," he said. "I can defend myself."

Jim left the parlor car and explored the different rooms, the stable car and the baggage car and didn't find anyone and nothing seemed to have been stolen.

He came back a few minutes later to the parlor car. "It's alright Sir. The intruder is long gone." He took the paper ball, unfolded it and smiled. "Artemus was here, Sir. He left me a coded message." He placed the small piece of paper on the green knap of the table.

Richmond pointed at it. "I've seen that code before. You left a message using that code for Artemus when you were working for that man called Callamander."

Jim nodded. "Yes, Sir. We use it from time to time. Artie invented that code." He opened the drawer of the dresser, took a pen out of it and quickly drew circles around a group of signs forming phrases. "Let's see what Artemus has to tell us…" He paused and said, "Senator Philip Simpson is behind the assassination attempts against the President."

Colonel Richmond was very surprised. "What? Senator Philip Simpson of Wisconsin?"

Jim continued to decipher the signs and said: "Yes Sir. Then he wrote "I disguised myself as Artemus Gordon to kill the President next time."

The Colonel blinked in surprise. "He what?"

Jim explained. "I suppose that Simpson asked Finn – I mean asked Artemus to kill the President again wearing a new disguise, Sir. Artie chose to disguise himself as the one person that President Grant wouldn't suspect to be an assassin: himself. He came here as Barney Finn and left the train as Artemus Gordon, posing as him. It's very clever." He continued to read the message. "Ask Jeremy to impersonate me. Artemus Gordon has to die so I can take his place."

Richmond nodded. "I understand. Artemus Gordon has to disappear so that the phony Artemus Gordon who is actually the true Artemus Gordon can be at the President's side at his next speech. I'm going to tell Jeremy Pike to come to my office as soon as possible."

Finally, Jim said, "And Artemus finally wrote, "Left a mask of my own face in the drawer of my dresser for Jer. Kill me so that S. thinks I'm dead. He'll think about another plan to kill the I'm captured he'll panic and escape." And he signed it AG." He smiled. "I have to kill Artie; it won't be the first time. Hmm… I haven't used the tranquilizer gun for a long time."

Richmond frowned, puzzled. "A tranquilizer gun? What's that?"

The agent smiled. "It's one of Artie's brilliant inventions, Colonel. He created a gun and a rifle. The gun and the rifle fire blank cartridges that eject tiny darts filled with a powerful new drug that put someone in a state resembling death. I used the tranquilizer rifle once on Artie when he was posing as an old man called Aaron Addison. I killed him before he was hanged and really killed. The only problem with that drug is the dosage, it's very tricky. The last time there was a slight overdose and it took some time for the sedative to wear off."

The head of the Secret Service nodded again. "That's a good plan. I need to see Jeremy Pike and the President to tell him what is going to happen."

Jim nodded. "As for me, I have to find the tranquilizer gun."

WWW

 _The same day, at noon_

Standing beside President Grant, his hand close to his gun holstered at his belt, Artemus Gordon was very nervous.

First because he was going to point his gun at Grant, a man he highly respected and loved like a surrogate father, threatening him, and secondly because Jim was going to shoot him with the tranquilizer gun. 'You're going to end in Henderson's hands, once again, and you'll be out for quite some time. I hope that Jim has found the right dosage of the sedative. The last time, I had my old nuggin' full of tapioca for almost half an hour', it was like I was drunk,' he thought.

He didn't hear the crowd chatting animatedly waiting for the President to make his speech and the musicians of the fanfare playing military marches to please the ex-Lieutenant General Grant.

He was focused on his task. Nothing else existed.

He glanced at Jim who was standing on the other side of the President and his best friend smiled and winked at him.

President Grant's forehead creased as he looked at Artie. "Calm down, Artemus, you're so nervous that you're making me nervous too," he said before adding, "Everything is going to be fine."

Standing at attention, Artie nodded, "Yes Sir." He glanced at Jim again and his partner whispered to him, "I'm ready, whenever you want, Artie."

Fighting down the rising lump in his throat and doing his best to calm down, Artemus took a deep breath, stepped aside, pulled his small gun out of his holster… and pointed it at Grant's head.

But he prudently kept his finger on the side of the trigger.

Immediately there were frightened cries of surprise and alarm among the crowd and the soldiers and officers of the security detail (aware of what was going to happen) pointed their arms at Artemus – but didn't fire.

The President turned toward his agent, stared down the barrel of the gun, then looked up at the holder of the revolver, falsely stunned. "What the hell are you doing Artemus?"

Playing his character, Artie replied bracing himself for impact, "Killing you, Sir."

In a flash Jim shoved Grant hard to the side, out of the line of fire, to safety and without any hesitation he fired on his partner at point blank range.

Chaos broke loose. The crowd gathered there immediately scattered and the soldiers encircling the platform raised their rifles ready to fire at anyone.

Hit square in his chest, Artemus let out a sharp cry of pain as the needle of the small tranquilizer dart containing the sedative penetrated his flesh, between two ribs and he lurched forward with a sudden feeling of vertigo when his knees gave way.

In a split second Jim caught his best friend before he crumpled to the floor and slowly, gently, lowered him to the platform.

Kneeling beside Artie laying on his back, completely limp, Jim grabbed the other man's monogrammed (AG) gun by the barrel and yanked it out of his partner's hand, loosely clutching it.

He re-holstered the tranquilizer gun and pressed two fingers against Artie's neck and checked his pulse for 30 seconds to be able to feel it. It was so slow it was almost imperceptible. "He's okay," he told Grant framed by four soldiers protecting him who let out a sigh of relief. Artemus's breathing was so shallow that it looked like he wasn't breathing at all. Then, faking being devastated, James West lowered his head toward Artemus Gordon's seemingly still chest.

Eyes closed, unconscious, immobile, the older agent looked dead.

Senator Simpson standing with his colleagues on another platform placed to one side grimaced with annoyance. Finn had failed again.

Finn was dead but Grant was still alive.

He had to find another assassin. He thought.

WWW

 _Later in Dr. Henderson's office_

Dr. Henderson injected the antidote in Artemus Gordon's neck and a few seconds later the USSS agent stirred from his drug induced sleep and moaned.

He opened his eyes, slowly, groaning and through his greying-out vision, he saw Dr. Stephen Henderson standing beside him, holding an empty syringe and then realized he was lying on the examination table of the doctor's office – again.

Henderson smiled. "Good to have you back, Artemus. How do you feel?"

He brought his bruised and swollen hand to his face, in slow motion. "I'm weak… as a newborn kitten. I have… to work on suppressing the…aftereffects," he whispered as his mouth felt like cotton. His entire body felt numb and heavy and he had spots dancing in his vision. "Oooh boy!... I really hate that drug."

Henderson smiled. "I know. And you created it. The effects of the sedative should wear off within a few minutes, Artemus. In the meantime, stay still."

Artie nodded. "I have no intention to go anywhere… I feel like I have no bones in my body." He turned his head to the right and through half lidded eyes, he saw Jim there standing beside Grant. The two men were smiling in relief. He waved a weak finger. "Next time, if there is a next time, and I hope not – It will be my turn to shoot you with the tranquilizer gun, Jim." He closed his eyes and then opened them several times as he was dozing off and on. "Are… are… Are you… alright Mr. President?" he asked in a barely audible voice.

President Grant nodded. "Yes, I am. But following your little play, I'll have to make an official statement in the Press saying that it was a 'security exercise' in real conditions in order to improve my protection – following the two attempts to kill me. Of course you were not killed by your partner – it was part of the exercise. People will believe it and approve it. But only after Simpson is under arrest, of course I want you to surprise him. For now, you're dead."

Artie nodded and yawned. "Jeremy is okay?" He asked. He could barely keep his eyes open.

The President nodded in his turn. "Yes, he's alright. Hopkins tried to kill him believing he was you, but Mr. Pike quickly neutralized him. Hopkins is at the moment in a cell in the Secret Service building." He patted Artemus' shoulder with affection and smiled proudly. "You did a good job, Artemus." He looked at Jim then. "When Artemus feels better, I want you to arrest Senator Simpson and bring him in my office. I'd like to have a little talk with him."

Rubbing one eye with his fist, child-like, Artemus breathed out, "Boy, all I wanna do is sleep." Then he closed his bleary eyes succumbing to tiredness.

WWW

 _Much later in Senator Simpson's residence_

Senator Philip Simpson took a step back and paled seeing James West and Artemus Gordon head toward him flanked by two other agents, both holding revolvers.

He pointed at Artie with a trembling hand. "B-but you're dead! I sent Hopkins to kill you! How is it possible?"

Artie smiled and said, "It's simple, I'm immortal." He paused and added, "It's a long story, Senator. For now you're under arrest for the attempted murder of the President of the United States. You're going to go before a federal court to face trial. But before that, President Grant would like to see you, Sir. He wants to talk to you. I've been ordered to bring you to the White House as soon as possible." He gestured to Simpson. "Gentlemen, handcuff the Senator." And the two agents complied within seconds.

Jim added, "And don't count on your merry band of henchmen to help you, Senator, the police are arresting them as we speak. By the way Hopkins is in jail, along with Finn. I'm sure they will both testify against you at your trial to avoid a life-long prison sentence."

Panicked, Simpson shook his head. "I'm not responsible for all that! I wanted Grant dead, yes. Because he let my two sons be killed during the war." He sighed. "It's a long story…" He stared at his manacled wrists, then looked back at Jim and Artemus. "But I didn't organize all this… another man who hates the President more than me is behind all that… He offered me the opportunity to avenge my sons in return for his accommodation here, and Hopkins and the other men were his henchmen, not mine..." Pale and sweating he glanced around him with dread with a bad feeling, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. "You have to protect me; I know that he's going to kill me if…" His next word got stuck in his throat as a long, black, dart embedded itself in his neck. He let out a strangled cry and crumpled on the floor.

Kneeling beside the immobile Senator Artie took the other man's pulse and shook his head. "He's dead, Jim. It's a poisoned dart, the death was instantaneous."

Prudently crouching to the floor, Jim and the agents looked around them and they saw a silhouette behind the rail of the second storey.

It was a little man holding a blowgun and he sniggered.

In a split second Jim stood and let out, "Loveless!" before he hurried toward the stairs. Artemus and the two agents followed closely.

But when they reached the landing, there was no one there.

Miguelito Loveless was gone.

Tbc.


	3. Act Two

**THE NIGHT OF THE PEACEMAKER**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT TWO**

 _Later in the White House_

 _Oval Office_

Ulysses S. Grant let out a puff of bluish smoke. "Then Dr. Loveless was behind that… " He said. "That man is starting to seriously piss… annoy me – to be polite."

Looking at each other, Jim and Artie exchanged a smile, then Jim said, "Same here, Sir. We're going to find him and arrest him, once and for all."

Less optimistic than his partner, Artemus said, "We'll do our best, to, Sir. Arresting Dr. Loveless is not easy, and keeping him behind bars even less."

The President shook his head and lowered his long, fat cigar to the ashtray. "I know that, but I'd like you to put him in prison – forever. But it will have to wait. I have a more important mission for you. Jim, Artemus, I want you to go to the Indian Reservation to stop a possible war between the Crow Indians and the Cheyenne." Looking at Artie he added, "As a Crow warrior and a Cheyenne warrior, speaking both Crow language and Cheyenne language - you're the perfect man for the job, of course Jim will be at your side. You're a team, and as you are a magnet for trouble, he'll be your shadow, keeping an eye on you. You'll be my _Peacemaker_." Leaning back in his armchair he added, "The two of you already settled conflicts between warlike Indians before; I want you to settle this one too. You have all the time you need and _carte blanche_. I'll write a letter giving you all the necessary powers so that you can accomplish your mission." He took a deep drag from his big cigar and puffed out a long, slow breath of smoke. Then he added, "Artemus, I heard from Colonel Richmond that you asked him the permission to bring back Red Bear's remains and belongings to his family?"

The older agent nodded. "Yes Sir. To his father, Búattaaxalusshish', to Running Coyote. He's Black Bear's best friend. Barney told me where they are. Daxpitcheehísshish's remains have to be placed with those of the members of his band. But first I have to find his remains. It should take me a few days, Sir."

Ulysses S. Grant nodded. "You're right, he does. Do it, and then bring them here. Red Bear was a brave soldier, he died in the line of duty, wanting to protect you, and he will receive a military honor before you bring his remains to his family and start your mission."

Curious, Jim asked, "What happened between the Crow and the Cheyenne?"

The POTUS explained, "An old Cheyenne that was part of the band which left the reservation, and then left the band after he fell very sick and chose to come back to his home, told everything to the civil Indian agent. Then I read his report." He paused and added, "Missing their ancestral life, and deciding to return to it, a small band of Cheyenne led by Tall Bull left the reservation and headed north to leave the Indian Territory. They crossed the eastern border of the Crow reservation in Montana Territory and settled there for winter time. They captured horses from a Crow settlement of Chief Big Yellowtail to replace their old ones, leaving them behind. Of course, the Crow were not happy about that. They raided the Cheyenne camp and took their horses back, but while doing it, a Cheyenne warrior was killed. Since then, there have been small attacks on both sides… But the conflict escalated recently when another group of Cheyenne, led by a man named Whirlwind joined the first group and kidnapped Chief Long Hair's daughter, called… Let me remember her name…"

Smiling, Artie supplied, "Her name is Tis-see-woo-na-tis, translated in English, She who bathes with her knees, Sir. I met her once. I know her father well. , E-she-huns-ka, I mean Long Hair has a powerful band. He's Chief Black Bear's brother. I met him during Crow Indians pow wows. But I don't know Whirlwind."

President Grant continued, "Thank you. They kidnapped her so that the Crow would stop their attacks and let them head north through their lands. That's all the old Cheyenne told the Indian agent, and that's all I know."

Frowning, Artemus said, "I know him and her, Sir."

Ulysses S. Grant nodded. "For now there have been two dead people only on either side, but according to the Indian agent there, the two nations are on the brink of war, and if that happens, there will be more dead among the warriors. I don't want to send soldiers there, because things would degenerate and there would be even more deaths. Thus you have to make a success of this mission."

Retaining a sigh, Artie thought 'No pressure.' He met Jim's confident gaze, his green eyes saying, 'We'll make it buddy.'

He nodded briefly, and then his thoughts focused on the last time he was with the Crow Indians, and especially on one female warrior: White Crow. He smiled. 'You're going to see her again, old boy,' he thought, immense joy making his heart pound in his chest.

WWW

 _Five days later,_

 _Indian Territory, Crow reservation_

 _On the way to Black Bear's settlement_

It was slowly snowing, but heavily at the same time. Large, wet snowflakes clung to the two riders and their mounts.

There was nothing but white covering the mountainous terrain.

Looking around him, at the vast expanse of several feet of snow, rocks and tall trees covered with layers of snow and frozen icicles hanging from the barren branches, Jim asked, "Why are we always traveling here in the dead of winter?"

His face half buried behind a scarf, Artie said, "Maybe because it's winter time each time he sends us here, it's a coincidence. But I do know you can better protect yourself from the cold than from the heat, and I can't stand the heat, I prefer the cold."

Smirking Jim nodded. "Says the man who has more wool on his body than a sheep in winter. I don't mind the heat, or cold either."

The snow began to fall heavier and thicker and the wind rose sharply.

Pressing his hat onto his head with a gloved hand, to fight an icy squall threatening to dislodge his Stetson Artie replied, "Lucky man. The wind is blowing… We should find shelter before being caught in a blizzard." he said talking through his nose. He sneezed and sniffed. "I think I'm going to catch a cold." He shivered and brushed off the snow that had collected in the collar of his thick coat. "I'd like to be at the Crow's settlement already, under a warm tepee," he added.

Smirking, Jim said, "Under White Crow's tepee I bet."

His broad smile hidden behind his scarf stiffened with ice, Artie nodded. "James West! You dog! Yes, you're right." 'And I'd like to be naked and snuggled against her equally naked body, under a warm blanket,' he thought, picturing that in his mind. He added, "I didn't head to Black Bear's settlement for the sole purpose of seeing her. As I already told you, you and I can't go to Búattaaxalusshish's, I mean to Running Coyote's, settlement to give him the remains of his son without being accompanied by Chief Black Bear, because it's a Chiefs's matter and because Black Bear loved him like he was his own son." Then he glanced at Lockpick following him, his other horse carrying the box containing Red Bear's remains. "Let's find a shelter big enough for two men and three horses."

Mo'éhno'ha Ȯhtameōhtsėstse (Walking Horse, in Cheyenne) neighed in approval. Artie smiled and patted his horse's neck with affection. "Good boy!"

Looking around him again Jim didn't spotted anything that could protect them from the coming blizzard. No cave, no shelter between rocks, no shelter under rock, nothing.

Besides the snow was falling so fast and hard now that the visibility was down to almost nothing. "Let's move ahead. It is not dark yet, maybe we will find something further on the way, where we could ride out the storm," he proposed.

Blinking tiredness away, Artie nodded. "Okay," he said as his lips started to go blue around the edges. "Soon," he added, or they would die of hypothermia, he thought as he could feel the biting cold seeping through his thick coat, sweater and shirt, chilling his skin.

Leading the way, again, Jim headed toward a high cliff and huge pointy rocks hoping to find a place there to shelter Artie, himself and the horses too.

In a matter of minutes the wind picked up, and the snowflakes got much bigger. The temperature dropped and the snowstorm turned into a blizzard.

He looked behind him from time to time, to see if Artie was following him, freezing cold air and big snowflakes blasting over his face and barely saw his silhouette riding Mo and Lockpick's silhouette. The visibility was close to zero now. "We'll find shelter, Artie!" he called over the whipping wind, his voice full of promise. He shuddered hard and grimaced he could barely feel his hands and feet. "I hope so…"

As time went on, the wind was stronger than ever and the cold more intense, making the slow ride in the thick snow harder.

Half an hour later the storm got worse reaching its full force. The wind was howling and the trees were swaying and creaking. The wind howled and lashed snow in every direction.

The temperature was continuing to drop. It was now below freezing and visibility was growing worse with every second.

The two men couldn't feel her face or her hands anymore. But they had to keep moving. They refused to die out there in the cold.

WWW

 _Later_

The two men were losing hope of finding anything, were on the verge of hypothermia, when Jim, through a white, dense, curtain of big snowflakes flying everywhere caught a glimpse of something dark on his left, a short distance ahead next to a grove of high trees piled with snow. The wind blew snow directly into his face, making it difficult to see exactly what it was.

His teeth chattering, he pointed at it and grimaced. Even gloved his fingers were growing numb, he realized with concern. "I'm not sure, but it could be a cave. Over there!" he yelled at the top of his voice, but it got lost in the howling wind.

Blackjack headed right there, impatient to be sheltered from the blizzard. Artemus, mounted on Mo, and Lockpick followed.

Once inside the large, deep cave Jim dismounted Blackjack and stumbled, his legs barely functioning. It was very cold there too, the angry blizzard whistling across the entrance and depositing layers of snow and ice as it passed. So they retreated further inside.

Sheltered from the biting cold, Jim removed his right glove and flexed his numb fingers trying to restore circulation in them, and it hurt. Then holding his gun he paused to let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting, then scanned the cave for any sign of habitation.

Nothing.

He waited for one more minute, and as no animal jumped out at him to attack him, he started to relax… but just a little.

The back end of the cave, full of stalactites and stalagmites, was plunged in total darkness. He pricked his ears, waited for a few seconds, but detected no noise. "Let's hope it's uninhabited. I don't want to share the cave with bears or wolves." Hearing no words coming from his partner, alarmed, he looked up at Artie still immobile and looking like a living snowman on his horse. "Artie? You okay?"

His response was a series of loud sneezes. Then Artie rasped, "B-boy! I'm so f-frozen… that I think my brain is full of snow too." Then he unwrapped his ice crusted scarf from around his nose and mouth, loosening it enough so he could tug it down around his throat.

Reassured, Jim smiled broadly but soon regretted it as his chapped lips bled a little. "You had me worried, buddy. I thought you had died of cold exposure on your saddle."

Slowly dismounting Mo, Artemus nodded. "That was c-close… I-I thought I was g-going to freeze f-for s-sure! I can't feel my extremities," he said his teeth chattering together as his whole body jolted with shivers. "C-could you start a fire J-Jim, p-please? Before my iced fingers and t-toes break and fall to-to the ground?... Atchooooooooooooo!"

Looking around him at the chilly, dimly lit cave, again, ready to fire against a wild beast, Jim said, "A fire, good idea…"

Patting Mo's neck Artie said, "There are no beasts in here, the horses wouldn't be so calm otherwise…" He sneezed again and brushed the snow from his clothes. "Brrrrrrrr… "He was freezing. He tucked his gloved hands in his armpits. "Boy! I'm frozen!"

Not seeing or hearing dangerous bears or wolves, Jim holstered his Colt, his fingers stinging, but not numb anymore.

From his left saddlebag he pulled out an artificial log. It was Artie's latest invention for winter travels to light a fire without wood within easy reach: each log was made of wax and long wood chips, all conglomerated. All that had to be done was to set fire to it. Each log could last three hours.

In a matter of 30 seconds Jim did so and the fake log caught fire with a loud whoosh. Soon big flames appeared and enveloped Artie's invention.

Removing his gloves, Artemus flexed his numb fingers. "It's a miracle I d-didn't get fros-frostbite." Glancing at the fire, he added, "Good idea I told you to pack my 'ready-to-fire log' – and coffee."

Imitating Jim who had just removed his saddle and blanket roll, his saddle bags and finally his saddle blanket from Blackjack's back, Artemus did the same thing with Mo and then he untied the long wooden box containing Red Bear's bones from Lockpick's back before lowering it to the ground with caution and respect. He rubbed the chestnut horse's muzzle. "Good boy! Tomorrow it will be Mo's turn to have it tied on his back." Then, finally he removed the saddle blanket.

Mo'éhno'ha Ȯhtameōhtsėstse and Lockpick moved closer to each other, their bodies touching, standing head to tail to keep each other warm.

Sitting beside Jim on the flat rock, Artie reached out, reaching his shaking hands out to the orange and yellow flames sending dancing shadows over the walls. His shivers grew softer and sparser and the warmth began returning to his skin. "Boy! That feels so good!" he said and he nearly moaned in pleasure, feeling his numbness beginning to recede.

Doing the same thing Jim said, "You're right." He paused, listening to the heavy blizzard raging outside, the wind screaming. "We have enough logs to keep warm for days. But we won't be here that long – I hope. We just have to wait for the snowstorm to blow itself out." Looking at Artie's flushed face, he added, "Speaking of warm, I think you are feverish, Artie."

Moving his hand up to his warm, damp forehead feeling the heat pouring out of his skin, Artemus nodded. "I was probably coming down with a cold before we left Washington. I had a headache and a stuffy nose. It's alright, it's just a cold. What about a cup of strong coffee?"

Smiling Jim said, "That's a good idea, and while you do that, I'm going to get rid of my soaked clothes, my body will heat up fas…" He abruptly stopped mid-word as, while the wind howled outside, he could hear a low, menacing growl.

Immediately the horses neighed nervously. Then, panicked they reared up and moved toward the mouth of the cave at top speed. Hearing another growl, louder this time, they bolted outside into the blizzard.

Moving away from danger.

Warning bells were suddenly screaming in Jim and Artie's heads urging them to run. But they didn't want to go back out into the blizzard.

So they stayed.

Standing, the two men grabbed their guns and turned around facing the end of the cave plunged in darkness. They tried to see what had frightened the horses in the obscurity. They had just pulled the hammers back, when the heard… a bear roar aggressively.

Feeling a shiver running down his spine, blanching, his eyes becoming wide, Artie said, "It's a bear." Pointing his Colt approximately in the direction of the loud growl he added, "We should have explored that part of the cave before we settled down… we just woke up a bear from hibernation. It was probably hidden in a hole, a cavity or a natural tunnel that's why the horses didn't notice its smell. And it's not happy."

Still seeing nothing but darkness, the two agents moved back prudently, ready to fire. The bear snarls were closer now.

Squinting, trying to locate the beast, Jim said, "If only I could see where…" Once again he didn't finish his sentence.

He knew the bear was close, very close as he could hear it breathe. His own breath quickened and his heartbeat pounded in his ears. He took a step back, but it was too late. He suddenly felt something – the bear's claws he registered a split second later – ripping his winter coat apart, tearing his sweater and shirt, reaching his skin and flesh, gouging his right shoulder and arm.

Blood spilled and poured. He screamed at the top of his lungs in pure agony and tears instantly started flowing down his face drawn with excruciating pain.

He fell to the ground, flat on his back with a choked gasp and curled up into a fetal position, breathing heavily and shivering in shock.

Immediately Artemus fired, twice, the flames coming from the mouth of his gun outlining the silhouette of a massive, infuriated black bear for a few seconds.

It was standing on its hind legs, baring its teeth. It's large head was close – far too close to his – its jaw big enough to crush his head in one snap!

Blanching, Artemus gasped and froze stiff, his heart hammering in his chest. It was the biggest bear he had ever seen. His breathing was becoming erratic. Panic swelled inside him.

His muscles were frozen with fear as he remembered being attacked and almost killed by a black bear in the middle of the Louisiana Bayous.

He heard a gunshot, then another one and then the bear roared in pain.

His body convulsed, and he screamed and screamed when the black bear, with a snarl, swiped a large paw at him, its sharp claws slashing across his left shoulder and the top of his chest, puncturing his skin and muscles there.

He collapsed to the ground, pressing a trembling hand on his mauled shoulder, blood oozing from between his clutching fingers as the massive bear hit the ground too with a thud, mortally wounded – trapping his legs under its weight.

He blacked out.

Propped on one elbow, Jim lowered his smoking Colt, Jim tried to stay conscious but everything became rather foggy after that.

He slumped on his back and everything faded to black.

WWW

 _Much later_

Blackjack nudged his owner with his muzzle for the tenth time trying to wake him and neighed when Jim finally regained consciousness.

Jim popped his eyes open and watched his horse's head lean toward him – and gritted his teeth, stopping himself from crying out. Tears prickled his eyes. "Ow! That hurts…"

He blinked, confused and disoriented, the intense pain occupying all of his numb brain. Then… he remembered everything.

Artie and he had been mauled by an angry black bear.

Mo and Lockpick tried to wake up Artemus the same way Blackjack did with his owner, but their owner remained unconscious. They huffed in worry, again.

Looking at Artie lying not far from his side, he noticed with dread that his best friend was immobile, his eyes closed, his face slack and white, and he thought he was dead.

He sighed in relief as he heard his ragged breath. Like him Artemus was seriously injured. His winter coat was soaked with blood and lying in a pool of the bear's blood. Plus, the dead bear had collapsed on top of his legs, its weight crushing them.

Fighting nausea – the stench of all that blood – making him sick, Jim nearly fainted. He tried to move into a sitting position, but a stabbing pain forced him to stay where he was, lying on the cold ground of the cave.

He sighed. Artie and he had escaped a gruesome, very painful death but they were not out of danger. They were seriously injured, incapable of moving, it was very cold – despite the small fire -, the sun was setting and with the night the temperature would drop far below zero very quickly. And wolves would probably be attracted here by the scent of blood, he thought.

But, always optimistic and positive in the worst situation possible, he added, "We've had worse buddy… we'll make it." His vision grew blurry and he closed his eyes, too tired to keep them opened. He reached out. His hand was trembling, cold with sweat and sticky with blood. He grasped Artemus's immobile fingers.

He passed out.

Moaning, Artemus slowly opened his eyes… Everything was fuzzy, but he glanced at Jim holding his hand, their fingers twined together. "Jim…"

WWW

 _Outside_

Plunging Into the Enemy (in Cheyenne: Ȯssȯsoa'xėstse) and his son, 14 year old Fast Horse (in Cheyenne: Haeohe'hame) their hair and clothes coated in snow and ice stopped behind a massive boulder topped with snow and dismounted.

Suddenly they heard the high, shrill call of the eagle through the blizzard, coming out from nowhere and Ȯssȯsoa'xėstse said, "An eagle? In such a snow storm? That's strange." He looked at his shivering son and added, "There's a cave nearby where we can build a fire and warm ourselves up, we saw it earlier. We are going to shelter there to wait for the end of the snowstorm. We'll resume the hunting afterward." He glanced around him – seeing nothing but whirling snow chilling his skin. "We followed the elks here, but they disappeared in the blizzard, like the others. I hope we didn't go too far into Crow territory… I don't want us to be captured by our enemies…"

They moved slowly, silently toward the mouth of the cave, the footprints they left were rapidly being filled in with fresh snow.

Ȯssȯsoa'xėstse pointed at the thin wisp of smoke rising into the sky from inside. "There's someone inside. But we have to enter if we want to survive."

Haeohe'hame nodded. He was so cold he couldn't feel his body anymore. "But if there are Crow warriors inside…" He said, his teeth chattering.

Pulling out his knife from his sheath, Plunging Into the Enemy replied, "Crow warriors are our enemies. I will kill them all."

Imitating his father, Fast Horse unsheathed his knife.

Followed by their horses, the two Cheyenne warriors stranded in the blizzard entered the dark cave, a big fire in the middle filling the place with light and warmth.

Moving the horses to one side, Ȯssȯsoa'xėstse and Haeohe'hame headed toward the small fire, carefully and stopped dead in their tracks when they spotted two white men lying on the ground close to it… one of them with his legs trapped under the dead body of a massive black bear. Three horses were standing around them – protecting them.

Mo recognizing Cheyenne clothes and scents, neighed and turned around. He lowered his head toward his barely conscious owner, and nuzzled his hair. Both Blackjack and Lockpick, relaxed and moved aside, letting the man and the boy move ahead.

Looking at each other in surprise, the two Cheyenne warriors then re-sheathed their knives and approached closer, slowly.

Looking up, Artie noticed the two Indians approaching, and as they were dressed like Cheyenne warriors, he said, in Cheyenne, Néh-véstȧhemėstse! (Help me!)… Ná-tsėhéstahe. (I'm a Cheyenne)."

Opening his eyes wide in stupefaction, Ȯssȯsoa'xėstse asked, "Né-tsėhésevéhehe? (Do you have a Cheyenne name?)."

Mustering the little strength left in him Artie moved his right hand to his chest. "Voaxaa'ȯhvo'komaestse…(White Eagle)." He paused, let out a long groan of pain, tears rolling on his cheeks and he rasped, "Mo'ȯhtaenahkohe (Black Bear)… navéhoname (my chief)… mana (band member)."

Exchanging a new look of surprise, the father and his son knelt beside a badly injured Artie and in English, Fast Horse asked, "Are you White Eagle, the white Cheyenne?" They both saw Artie nod. "I heard about you! All the Cheyenne have heard about you! You have two eagle feathers! You're a great warrior, and ma'heo'o, the Sacred Spirit protects you sending his messenger flying above you…"

Ȯssȯsoa'xėstse nodded. "That eagle outside… I heard that anytime White Eagle is in danger, ma'heo'o sends an eagle to give him his protection… signaling to people where he is, so that he can be rescued. That's exactly what I'm going to do…"

But Haeohe'hame was focused on one thing only. He glanced at the massive bear and added, "You killed a bear! A giant bear!" he exclaimed in awe.

Looking at the dead bear, then at the other white man, lying unconscious beside White Eagle, Plunging Into the Enemy said, "We're going to help you."

He waved to Mo, the painted horse. "White Eagle has a Cheyenne horse. "Nenáasėstse! (Come here!)". And as a good Cheyenne horse, Mo obeyed.

He saddled Mo'éhno'ha Ȯhtameōhtsėstse, then attached one end of a rope to the bear's paw and the other one to the saddle horn. He slapped the horse's flank and Mo pulled hard once, twice and managed to remove the bear's body from Artemus's trapped legs.

His legs free, Artie cried out as pain surged and he instinctively rolled on his side, on his good shoulder and he curled in on himself.

Ȯssȯsoa'xėstse patted Mo's neck to thank him and kneeling close to the famous Voaxaa'ȯhvo'komaestse, he slowly, gently uncurled him. "I need to see your wounds," he explained. "I'm not a medicine man but my brother Ho'neohma'heonevėstse (Medicine Wolf) is. And I learned a lot of things at his side. I have what is necessary to stop bleeding in a bag incase my son or I are hurt during a hunt." He saw Artie's fists tightening, he saw him grit his teeth. He saw him swallow back a moan of pain. "You're brave."

But Artemus didn't hear it. The pain arched his back and he lost consciousness again.

Ȯssȯsoa'xėstse seized the opportunity to remove Artemus's coat without making the other man suffer more than he already was.

Moving beside Jim, Fast Horse pressed two fingers against the other man's neck. "He's still breathing, and he's injured too."

Hearing the boy's voice, Jim re-opened his eyes and blinking, he grimaced as the pain re-appeared. He furrowed his brow. "Who are you?" he slurred.

Placing a hand on his chest, Fast Horse responded, "My name is Haeohe'hame, Fast Horse. My father Ȯssȯsoa'xėstse, Plunging Into the Enemy is going to take care of you. But White Eagle first. He is injured more seriously than you. You are White Eagle's vésevoo'o, companion, his néstaxe, co-warrior, right?"

Looking at his best friend, Jim saw that Plunging Into the Enemy was unbuttoning Artie's ruined, blood-covered coat. "Yes, name's James West. How's Artie? I mean White Eagle?"

Opening Jim's shredded bloody coat, the boy said, "White Eagle is going to be fine James West and you too. My father will treat his wounds and yours then we're going to take you to our settlement. I will build a travois for you, I know how to do it. My father taught me. Once there, Ho'neohma'heonevėstse, our medicine man will take control of things ."

Shaking his head, Jim said, "No, no, we have to go to Black Bear's settlement… the Crow Chief. We have the remains of a Crow warrior, Red Bear in that box over there… We have to give them to him. Then he'll bring them to Red Bear's father, Running Coyote, a medicine man, his best friend…"

Fast Horse shook his head. "No, we can't go there. The Crow are our enemies. If we go there, my father and I will be captured and killed." He smiled reassuringly. "Don't be afraid, you're not our enemies. White Eagle is a famous Cheyenne warrior and you, his vésevoo'o and néstaxe. You'll be honored guests and Ho'neohma'heonevėstse, the medicine man will take care of you."

Suddenly Jim yelped when the boy pulled up his sweater and shirt to take a look at his wound … He moaned, and closed his eyes, falling back into unconsciousness.

Outside the rough blowing winds were dying down.

WWW

 _Outside, later. No blizzard._

Hearing loud voices several feet away, Jim woke up and opened his eyes, realizing that Artie and he were facing each other, huddled together.

Artie was sleeping soundly, mouth half opened, snoring.

He somehow managed to move into a half-lying, half-sitting position, letting out a hiss wincing, as his whole body hurt and noticed that Artemus and he were both laid on a travois, both lying under their spread blanket roll, on which was placed their saddle blankets… and a freshly skinned bear hide – the bear that he had killed - protecting them from the harsh winter air.

He wrinkled his nose at the stench that enveloped them and remembered that Plunging Into the Enemy had used something from a bag to treat their wounds.

He had undoubtedly covered their wounds with an ointment which odor would have caused a bear to flee, he thought. And there was the stench of the bear hide too, that Plunging Into the Enemy had removed from the dead beast. When an Indian killed an animal, he used everything, ate meat, used tendons and bones to make objects, nothing was wasted, he added mentally.

He saw Mo, Blackjack and Lockpick attached together with a rope following them. Then he looked around him and saw that the immobile travois was attached to a spotted horse mounted by the Cheyenne boy called Fast Horse.

His father Plunging Into the Enemy was mounted on his white horse was at his son's side, and armed with a bow and arrow was threatening… other Indians who encircled them and were pointing arrows at the Cheyenne warrior.

Opening his eyes wide in surprise, Jim recognized… Black Wolf and Red Eagle among Crow warriors.

He smiled and using his good hand, he waved at his Crow Indians friends. "Hey! I'm here… Artemus, I mean Strong Bear's here too!" He croaked out,

Red Eagle gave Jim a nod. "We know. We recognized your horses. We spotted the Cheyenne crossing the iced river and we intercepted them here, on the other side. They won't go anywhere…"

Alarmed Jim said, "Don't kill them. They helped us!... Artemus and I came here to stop the conflict between the Cheyenne and the Crow, it starts here!" He grimaced in pain and, limbs weakly trembling and limp, he slumped beside his partner.

He noticed that the sun had finally managed to climb its way into the winter sky but was blocked out by the large grey clouds promising more snow.

Darkness overcame him and he passed out exhausted from the physical pain and the ordeal his body has gone through.

WWW

 _Much later_

 _At the Crow settlement, west of the Powder River Basin, into the western portions of the Yellowstone Valley, Montana Territory_

 _Under Half-Moon's tepee_

Smiling, White Crow placed a soft kiss on Artemus Gordon known as Strong Bear's lips and earned a frown from the Akbaalia (healer) medicine man.

Strong bear was laying on his side, the lower part of his naked body was wrapped in a blanket. He was unconscious, drugged.

Half-Moon frowned. "You're wrong if you hope that you'll wake him like that, White Crow. He's not going to kiss you back for a long time. I gave him a powerful sleeping potion to drink when he woke up. I'm keeping him unconscious until I treat his serious wounds. And there's a lot to do."

Fingering Artie's stubbled jawline, White Crow nodded. "It's a good idea. He has suffered enough already. But I thought the Cheyenne called Plunging into The Enemy had looked after him."

Half-Moon shook his head. "No, he didn't. He just put some ointment on the wounds to stop the bleeding, that's all. I don't call that looking after somebody." He used a cloth to dab Artie's deeply lacerated shoulder and top of his chest with an herbal disinfectant. "He's not a medicine man."

Looking at Jim lying on a nest of blankets on the other side of the fire, completely naked too but wrapped in a blanket, sleeping soundly, White Crow asked, "How is James? He's badly injured too."

Following the Chief of the warriors's gaze, Half-Moon responded, "He's going to be alright, with time and care, like Strong Bear."

The female warrior looked again at Artie. Sweat was rolling down his red, puffy face. "He has a strong fever," she said.

Half-Moon nodded. "Yes, his wounds are infected, like James's, but James is younger and more resistant and his fever is coming down. With such injuries, it's incredibly fortunate that Strong Bear's lung wasn't punctured… But I forgot that Akbaatatdia the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above and people protects him."

Using a water bag made from a buffalo stomach, Half-Moon cleaned the wound. Then he opened one of his pouches and pulled out a great dollop of a greasy, greenish, smelly antiseptic ointment and applied it to the wound, rubbing it inside. Artemus's face twitched slightly but he remained asleep. "With this, there's no need to sew the wound closed. That ointment will do it and you won't have any scar left," he said. He added, "They both lost quite a lot of blood. They will be tired and lethargic for a few days while they recover."

White Crow beamed. Strong Bear would have to stay here for a few days! She took his hand and gently stroked his calloused palm. 'Mine' she thought, possessively.

Closing her fingers around Artie's limp hand, White Crow said, "I'd like to stay with him tonight, sleeping at his side once you have finished."

Half-Moon shook his head and stopped what he was doing to mop up a bit of slowly leaking blood from the half stitched deep gash. "No, I need to be alone to chant healing prayers. You will see him tomorrow. He's not going to go anywhere – not for many days."

WWW

 _The next evening_

White Crow kissed Artemus's lips.

Slowly, very slowly Artie woke up in a haze. His eyelids fluttered at the touch of something warm on his lips. A kiss? And then he was blinking fuzzily up at White Crow. "Hello," he croaked out. He cleared his throat. "Kaheé! (hello)."

Smiling the Crow woman placed a finger on Artie's lips, silencing him. "Shhh… shhh, no talking." She said in Crow language. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

He smiled too, sleepily, weakly. "It's alright."

She kissed his lips again and asked, ""How are you feeling?"

Artie sighed. "Awful… Not dead, though."

White Crow wiped Artemus's feverish brow with a damp cloth and her smile broadened when he kissed her finger, softly. "You're in Half-Moon's care, under his tepee, and safe. James is here too. You are going to be alright, but it will take some time. The two of you were both seriously wounded. But Half-Moon used fast-healing ointment on Jim and you. You should have recovered in a few days."

Looking to one side, Artemus saw his best friend's motionless figure lying next to the fire, wrapped in a colored blanket. He was sleeping and his face was pale and ashen. "He… okay?" he asked in English.

Leaning toward Artie White Crow placed a soft kiss on his lips. "Shhh…yes, he's going to be alright, don't worry about him." She replied in her own language. She dabbed the sheen off his brow with the cloth and added, "I would have preferred to see you in other circumstances… my Strong Bear." Using her free hand, she stroked his stubbled chin. "Speaking of bear… I heard from the Cheyenne called Plunging Into the Enemy that you killed the bear which attacked James and you. That's a prowess worthy of a great warrior. He skinned the bear to offer you its hide. That's a precious gift, but you deserve it. I accepted the gift in your name and asked Biliíche Héeleelash (Among The Willows) to make a coat for you, with the bear's hide."

Artemus shook his head. "Jim killed the bear, not me… He deserves that precious gift, not me. Give the coat to Jim."

White Crow nodded. "I will."

Frowning, worried about the father and his son, Artemus breathed out, in Crow language, "I hope you didn't kill them… They're good people."

Brushing Artie's lips with her forefinger, White Crow said, "Shh… don't talk, it's tiring you. Don't worry. They were not harmed. They're our hostages and thus well-treated. Actually, Plunging Into the Enemy is Whirlwind's son, the Cheyenne Chief who has taken She who bathes with her knees, daughter of E-she-huns-ka, Long Hair, my father's brother. And Fast Horse is his grandson. Black Bear will exchange them for her, and he hopes to settle things peacefully between the Cheyenne and us. He sent two warriors to the Cheyenne settlement located in the north of our territory, to propose the exchange. They should be back in two or three days."

Reaching White Crow, sitting beside him, Artemus rasped, "I know the whole story… Pre- President Grant… sent Jim and me here to stop the possible war between… the Crow and the Cheyenne. As I am both… a Crow warrior and a Cheyenne warrior, he designated me as _peacemaker_."

White Crow's fingers ran through Artie's mussed up dark locks, tenderly. "'I will tell that to my father, Black Bear. He'll be happy to have your assistance. Now close your eyes. You need to get some rest. You need your strength back." She leaned down to press a kiss on his nose. "I'll stay here, at your side."

A smile quirked at Artemus's lips as he said, "Sleep… Okay. But I want a kiss first."

She kissed Artie again, open mouthed– and he kissed her back, moaning as White Crow's tongue slid against his own.

White Crow pulled away from Artie's lips, "One kiss. Now sleep, you need to rest," she murmured with a soft voice.

Strong Bear shook his head, his body relaxing. "More."

More than happy to comply, the Crow woman started placing open small kisses with just the hint of teeth along the white man's neck. She paused, nibbled his ear and said, "I missed you, I missed you so much." She flipped the blanket covering Artie over, and she traced the protruding ribs with a fingertip, surveyed the all too-thin pale limbs. "You lost weight."

Artie nodded. "I was very sick," he said, skipping the details.

She kissed her way over to Artie's navel, his chest being wrapped in a bandage covering his ointment-covered wounds.

Flushing, Artemus whined in response, his heart racing. "God! I missed you White Crow. I missed you so very much too."

Pleased by her ministrations, White Crow nipped the tender skin around the navel making Artemus squirm his breath hitching. He winced. "Ow!"

Smiling, White Crow commanded, "Don't move! Let me do that…" She perched herself upon his lap with her legs on either side of his hips. "I dreamed of our last night together many times…"

Artemus groaned as she planted several new kisses along his neckline. "I do that too…" he muttered, voice hoarse. His Adam's apple moved as he swallowed hard as she ran her palms down his abdomen. "Oh boy! Don't stop…"

Half-Moon suddenly entered the tepee and the two lovers froze and blushed. The medicine man furrowed his brow and pointed at the opening. "Stop!" He ordered in Crow language to White Crow and he added, "Leave! I don't want you touching him while Strong Bear still got stitches."

Shaking his head, Artie said, "No, she stays… White Crow didn't do anything wrong." He smiled. "And kisses can't hurt."

Suddenly a sneezing fit hit him. He sneezed four times, the sneezes wracking his body and rippling through his wounds causing him to let out a pained shout, and tears started to fall from his eyes.

He rolled on his good side and huddled in White Crow's lap. He sniffled amid sobs. "God… that hurts!" he croaked out.

Slowly, gently, White Crow maneuvered Artie onto his back and in a soothing gesture; she leaned down, her forehead against the man she loved. "I know."

Half-Moon tilted Artie's head forward and placed a bowl against his lips, "Drink, Strong Bear, this potion will make any pain vanish," he said. Once he'd drunk enough, he set the bowl aside. "I didn't know that you were awake, otherwise I would have given this to you to drink sooner. I thought you would not wake up until tomorrow morning, but someone woke you…" And he sent White Crow a black look.

Exhausted and hurting, Artemus closed his glassy eyes. "Thank you," he murmured and relaxed. "White Crow stays…" he slurred, tongue thick.

Pulling the blanket up to Artemus's shoulders, White Crow said, "I'm staying. Sleep well." Then she kissed the tip of his nose.

He let out a soft chuckle and drifted to sleep, his body stilling.

Moaning in distress, Jim began to make small movements, with his hands and feet, as a nightmare was plaguing him.

Goosebumps formed on his skin.

 _Jim's nightmare:_

Dressed in his Captain's uniform, Artemus Gordon was on his horse in front of an old oak tree, tall and dark. There was a rope slung over a thick branch, with a noose at the end.

His hands were bound by a rope at his back and Barney Finn wearing a gray Confederate uniform was leading the quarterback.

Blood was trickling from cuts on Artie's battered face. His head lolling on his chest, he was fighting to stay conscious.

Mounted on a horse, a Gray soldier looped the rough noose around the Union officer's neck. With a cold, cruel smile he asked, "Ready to die, spy?" The noose was tightened.

Looking up at his ex-partner, Barney asked in his turn, "Any last words?"

But he only received a glare from Artemus who had his jaws clenched and his mouth set into a grim expression, his chin defiant. Not scared of dying.

Finn chuckled. "Don't talk to traitors, eh? See ya in hell, buddy," and, with a grin, he pulled the horse from under the branch.

Closing his eyes, Artie took a deep breath – his last one, he thought. He lifted his head high and waited for the inevitable, resigned to his fate.

He gasped as he found himself falling as the horse below him disappeared. The rope stopped his descent with a painful tug and his body was jerked upwards. The rope became impossibly tight and… his neck didn't break, didn't snap from the pressure.

He was suspended by his throat, choking to death, whipping his legs around frantically as he struggled to breathe and tried to scream. In vain.

His lips turned blue and his eyes bugged.

Laughing, the Confederate soldiers watched him jerking, swinging, convulsing, tears streaming down his face. Then they set his body spinning for their amusement.

Finally, Artemus Gordon quickly became weaker, his struggling ceasing. He had a last spasm and went still, his face purple and bloated.

Barney Finn pulled out his gun from his holster, pointed it at his former friend's head, cocked the hammer and fired.

One bullet in his head.

One bullet in his heart.

He grinned to his new Confederate friends. "Just to be sure he's dead," he said. He chuckled. "He went through so many dangers, escaping death each time, that I had come to believe that he was immortal." He cackled. "Well, he wasn't after all."

Mounting Blackjack, gun in hand, he (Jim) lodged a bullet in Finn's head and then killed all the Confederate soldiers, one by one.

He slid off his horse and looked up at Artemus Gordon's lifeless body hanging at the end of the noose, covered in blood. "Artie! NOOOOO…!' he screamed as he fell to his knees, horrified at the sight.

 _Reality:_

His whole body trembling, Jim woke up with a jolt of adrenaline, bathed in a cold sweat, his heart pounding. He bolted upright in his bed of blankets and began screaming. "Artie! NOOOOO!…" while glancing around him in the semi darkness of the tepee with wide, terrified eyes.

He groaned in pain and slumped on his back, sobbing loudly both in pain and in distress. After a moment he calmed down and took a few deep breaths as he realized that it wasn't real. He had dreamed all of it. The nightmare was a vivid one. He could smell the gunpowder, hear Finn cackling…

He fought bile rising in his throat.

Lying beside Artie, sharing his nest of blankets with him, White Crow opened her eyes hearing sobs and propped herself on one elbow.

She glanced at Strong Bear still sleeping soundly and then made her way across the tepee to sit next to his friend on the pile of spread blankets. "What's wrong James?" she asked, placing her hand on Jim's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. "Bad dream?" She gently stroked his dark brown hair to soothe him. "It will vanish soon," she added.

Looking up at White Crow Jim rasped, "I had a nightmare." He wiped the sweat off his forehead and took a couple of deep breaths before adding, "Artie was killed, hanged. It was a vivid nightmare… None of it was real, but it could have happened – minus the end. Is he okay?"

White Crow nodded. "Yes, he is. He's sleeping peacefully." Then, intrigued she asked, "What could have happened? Artemus being hanged?"

Jim collected himself and regained his composure. He wiped his tears with the back of his hand. "Yes." And he recounted the events of his nightmare to the Crow woman.

Once he was calmed down, he told White Crow what had really happened – Finn's betrayal, the murder of Red Bear, Artemus's beating and humiliation for days and his almost hanging.

He looked at his best friend, watching him sleep peacefully, his breathing slow and deep. "Wartime wasn't easy for him. He almost died a dozen times, if not, more," He let out in a hoarse voice. Swallowing he added, "He has been very lucky so far not to die, he often tells me that he must have been a cat in a previous life and that he kept his nine lives when he became a human... But one day or another... I am afraid that he will die brutally, before my eyes, without my being able to help him..."

Looking at Artie too, White Crow, sure of herself said, "He was a soldier, he's now a Government agent, but whatever he is, he's a warrior. Don't be afraid that you'll see him die brutally. He will die when very old, in his bed, in his sleep, peacefully. Nothing can kill him, except old age."

Intrigued, frowning, Jim asked, "You seem to be very sure of that White Crow, why?"

The female warrior smiled. "Why? Because Strong Bear is marked by the dúuptakoische (eagle), sacred messenger between Akbaatatdia the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above and people. All the warriors who were marked in their flesh by the eagle's talons didn't die in battles. They became old wise and respected Chiefs leading their bands or tribes for many years, and all of them died in peace, surrounded by their family. Akbaatatdia will protect Strong Bear until it's time for him to meet his ancestors." Frowning in her turn, realizing something, White Crow added, "I thought Red Bear had disappeared without any trace during the war between the whites…"

Closing his eyes, Jim murmured, "That was before Finn told Artie where his remains were… He brought them here to give them to his father…" Eyelids drooping, drifting off to sleep, he slurred, "Are in the big box. His father is Running Coyote. He's Black Bear's best friend…Needs to accompany Artie to Running Coyote's settle… settlement. Chiefs matter… and…"

He didn't finish his sentence. He started snoring.

WWW

 _The next morning_

Half-Moon gently maneuvered a barely awake Strong Bear against a pile of buffalo furs and shoved a plate of unidentified roasted meat with greasy corn topped with herbs under his nose. "Eat, Strong Bear, you need to regain your strength. When I told White Crow that you were waking up, she hurried to prepare this for you. It's her favorite meal."

He reached to press the back of his hand to Artemus's forehead. "You're still a bit feverish. Your temperature should be back to normal by tomorrow." He said, dropping his hand.

Half-lying, half-sitting against a pile of buffalo furs, Artie nodded. "Okay…" Blinking away the sleep and took the plate just as his stomach began to growl loudly. "Boy! I'm hungry. Thank you, Half-Moon." And he started wolfing down his meal.

Using a buffalo-stomach water bag, the medicine man poured some liquid into a bowl. He continued, "James told White Crow that you brought Red Bear's remains with you, in a big box. She told that to her father and Black Bear sent a warrior to Running Coyote, he should be here in six days, not before. That's a good thing, in your state; you're not in shape to travel to Running Coyote's settlement, or anywhere."

Licking his fingers clean, Artie glanced around him and not seeing his best friend, worried, he asked. "Where's Jim?"

Half-Moon smiled. "He's with Shíiledakáake, Yellow Bird. She's giving him a bath under her tepee. It's not a real bath, as the river is caught in ice, rather a cloth-bath with a bucket of hot water. I designated her to take care of him. She helps me, sometimes. Then I will take care of his shoulder and arm. The wounds have started healing well."

He reached out, "Drink!"

Artie drank the water then gave the empty bowl back to the old Crow Indian. "Thanks!" Then, looking at his own bandaged shoulder and chest, he said, "My own wounds have started to heal too, I suppose. Thank you very much; you saved our lives, Half-Moon."

Half-Moon smiled again. "It's always a pleasure."

Suddenly the flap covering the circular opening of the tepee was pushed to the side and White Crow entered the cone-shaped tent. She was holding a bucket of steaming water and a cloth.

Noticing that Strong Bear was awake and had eaten what she had prepared for him, she smiled broadly, very pleased. "How are you feeling, Strong Bear?" She asked.

Looking up at White Crow, offering her a reassuring smile, he replied, "Better. And thanks to Half-Moon I'm still alive, and thank you for the meal you prepared for me." His smile broadened becoming amused. "Are you going to give me a cloth-bath too?"

WWW

 _Two days later_

Dressed like a Crow warrior - which he was - and wearing the bear hide coat made by Biliíche Héeleelash (a gift from Jim who didn't want to keep it, because only Strong Bear could wear it), Artemus Gordon aka Strong Bear joined Chief Black Bear in the middle of the settlement.

Ȯssȯsoa'xėstse and Haeohe'hame (Plunging Into the Enemy and Fast horse) were already there, standing next to a big fire, framed by four Crow braves.

Other warriors parted when a group of Cheyenne headed toward the central square, lined with tepees, Minninnewah (Whirlwind) mounted on a black stallion.

He was accompanied by a young woman riding a spotted mare: Tis-see-woo-na-tis (She who bathes with her knees).

Six warriors escorted them.

Moving forward, Chief Black Bear approached Whirlwind who had just slid off his horse. He raised his hand in a gesture of peace. "Welcome, Chief Minninnewah," he said in English, because Crow and Cheyenne language were different.

But the Cheyenne leader ignored the old Crow and focused on Artemus. "Why are you here white man?" he asked in his language.

Moving beside Black Bear, Artie squared his shoulders and replied, "My name is Artemus Gordon, President Grant sent me here to settle the conflict between the Crow and the Cheyenne. I'm his peacemaker. But I am also a Cheyenne, a warrior with two feathers called White Eagle, blood-brother of American Knife. I am also Strong Bear, a Crow warrior. As a Cheyenne and Crow, I too want peace between our two tribes." He spoke in Cheyenne language.

Minninnewah was surprised. "You're White Eagle, the white Cheyenne?… I heard about you. But I didn't know you were a Crow too."

Artie smiled. "And a Comanche, but it's a long story," he said, in English. Then he looked at Tis-see-woo-na-tis who was shivering on her horse, and added, "It's cold, let's talk inside." Then he gestured toward Black Bear's tepee.

Ȯssȯsoa'xėstse and Haeohe'hame headed toward Minninnewah who pulled them against him, hugging them tightly.

WWW

 _Inside Black Bear's tepee_

Imitating Minninnewah, sitting cross-legged on a buffalo fur, on the other side of the fire, Artemus said, "President Grant doesn't want a war between the Crow and the Cheyenne, but peace and good relations. That's why he sent me here. To find a solution which will be just for the two tribes. It begins with the exchange of prisoners… as a gesture of goodwill."

Minninnewah nodded, and glancing at Tis-see-woo-na-tis, in English, he commanded, "You're free, woman! Sit beside White Eagle."

She stood and complied. In exchange, Ȯssȯsoa'xėstse and Haeohe'hame both took their place on each side of the Cheyenne Chief.

Chief Black Bear said, "It's a good beginning to our talk, Minninnewah. The Cheyenne led by Hotuaekhaashtait (Tall Bull) had settled for the winter in the eastern border of the Crow reservation. He and his band, and you and your warriors can stay here but when the good times return, you will leave our territory… but before that, you will give us back the horses you stole."

Strong Bear intervened, "And you will go back to the Cheyenne reservation – otherwise the Army will stop you. I know that you want to live like you did before, but it's impossible, and I am very sorry. But you have no other choice; if you don't there will be death and tears among your people. There was enough blood poured out among the Cheyenne, enough bereaved families… " He swallowed hard. "I lost almost all of my Comanche friends, and I don't want to see dead Cheyenne…"

Chief Black bear nodded. "Strong Bear speaks with the voice of the heart, with the voice of reason also. Tell Hotuaekhaashtait our exact words, Minninnewah. He's a leader, he cares about his band, then I'm sure he will take a wise decision."

Minninnewah nodded too. "I will tell him everything, and then I will send a warrior to tell you if he accepts your offer, Black Bear."

He stood, immediately imitated by his son and grand-son. He bowed his head respectfully and headed toward the entrance of the tepee, Ȯssȯsoa'xėstse and Haeohe'hame in tow.

Once they had left, Black Bear looked at Strong Bear who was lost in his thoughts, his eyes wet. He was curious to know what had happened to the Comanche, but he held back on seeing that the other man was still suffering, speaking of it would only increase his pain.

He simply placed a comforting hand on the other man's shoulder and said, "Go back to White Crow's tepee and get some rest."

Cracking a smile, Artie scoffed softly. 'Rest? With White Crow?'

Two days later, a Cheyenne warrior brought back Hotuaekhaashtait's words. He accepted Black Bear's proposition and would head back to the Cheyenne reservation when the good times returned.

Tbc.


	4. Act Three

**THE NIGHT OF THE PEACEMAKER**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT THREE**

 _Six days later, at dawn_

Búattaaxalusshish' / Running Coyote placed his hand on the big box containing the remains of his son and closed his eyes, thankful to Akbaatatdia the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above and people – for having ensured that his missing son was found and returned to his family. Then, he headed toward Black Bear standing beside a white man dressed like a Crow warrior.

He gave a nod to his best friend and said, "It's good to see you Chief Black Bear. I would have liked to do it under other circumstances. But Akbaatatdia the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above and people gave me my son back, and I thank him for it."

Black Bear nodded. "Strong Bear found Red Bear's remains and brought them here, with the intention to give them to you."

Running Coyote stared at Artemus coldly and said, "My son wouldn't be dead if he hadn't followed you during that stupid war."

Surprised, expecting thanks not to be attacked, Artie replied, using Crow language like the two Indians, "I didn't force him to 'follow me', Búattaaxalusshish'. He volunteered. He died bravely, trying to protect me. I deeply regret he's dead. He was my friend. He was a good soldier, served his country with honor, that's why President Grant gave him military honors in Washington."

Suddenly, in a matter of seconds Running Coyote grabbed a handful of Artie's hair and pressed a knife against his throat, making him flinch. "My son was under your command. You were responsible for him. You should have protected him, and you didn't. You're responsible for his death!"

Blood slowly trickled from the shallow cut on his throat. Ignoring it, Artie added, "I couldn't. I'm sorry. It was so sudden and unexpected…"

In a split second White Crow who had placed herself behind Strong Bear moved protectively in front of him, her own knife unsheathed.

Black Bear raised a calming hand. "Everyone calm down!" He commanded.

But Búattaaxalusshish' didn't. He pointed his knife at Artemus and said, "As a white man, I should kill you right on the spot, but you're also a Crow warrior, so we'll fight, here, right now, like two warriors do, and only one of us will go out alive from the fight." He took a step back and glanced at the big box that two of his men held in their arms. "Bring Red Bear's remains to the settlement. I will meet you there later. I have something to do, here," Addressing a contemptuous smile at Artie he added, "And it shouldn't take long…"

Moving toward Black Bear Jim said, "You can't let him do that!"

Black Bear shook his head. "He has the right to do that if he If he believes that Strong Bear is responsible for the death of his son."

Jim insisted, "He was mauled by a bear a week ago. His wounds have just healed but are still fragile. He can't fight. Stop this!"

Black Bear sighed. "I can't."

Being deeply alarmed, Jim added, "Delay the fight then, until Artie is in shape to be able to face his opponent."

Black Bear shook his head again. "I can't. Running Coyote has the right to do this, if he thinks he needs reparation."

Looking at Running Coyote, Jim said, "He's not responsible for Red Bear's death. A man called Barney Finn killed him, not Artemus."

Running Coyote stared at Jim with utter indifference and replied, "Red Bear was under Strong Bear's command. He was responsible for him, just as I'm responsible for my warriors. He failed to protect him, so he's responsible for his death. It's simple as that." Using his knife he pointed to the middle of the settlement lit by a dozen bonfires and added, "Grab a knife and join me there, Strong Bear."

Then he headed there.

Placing her knife in Artie's hand White Crow said, "You will win this fight and live. Akbaatatdia the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above and people protects you."

Not so sure of that, Artie grimaced and asked Black Bear. "I suppose I don't have any other choice but to fight Running Coyote, right?"

Black Bear placed a confident hand on Strong Bear's shoulder. "You're a great warrior, Strong Bear, you will win this fight."

Grimacing again, Artie said, "That means yes."

WWW

 _Later, in the middle of the bonfires_

Holding White Crow's knife, Artemus faced Running Coyote, armed with his knife. "Instead of a deadly duel, we could have a 'first blood" duel," he proposed.

Búattaaxalusshish'snorted. "Are you sure you're the warrior called Strong Bear? Because Crow warriors don't fear death." He taunted, "Maybe it's your white man's blood that's speaking."

Raising his chin proudly, Artie replied, "I'm not afraid of dying." He raised his knife. "And here, I'm a Crow warrior, not a white man."

Raising his knife too, Running Coyote took a step back. "We'll see."

Moving beside White Crow, his face showing his anxiety, Jim said, "Artemus's injured. He won't be able to fight long… He's going to die!"

Looking at Jim, White Crow replied, "I'm not worried like you are." She looked up and pointed at a large bird making circles in the golden light, high above their heads. "Akbaatatdia the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above and people sent its messenger to show everyone here that it"s protecting Strong Bear."

Looking at the majestic golden eagle, Jim knew that when an eagle was flying over Artie's head, the dire situation he was in ended well. But if Artemus didn't die, he would be injured, even more. In his state, it was inevitable. He hoped not too much.

He looked at Half-Moon, hopefully. The medicine man was the best he knew, even better than Artie's Cheyenne brother, American Knife – who had studied medicine at Dartmouth. He would immediately take care of his partner.

He sighed, resigned. He couldn't do anything but watch the knife fight, wondering how Artemus would manage to stay alive.

He stopped his train of thoughts when with a cry Running Coyote lunged. In a flash Artemus placed his knife in his bad hand and using his left fist (he was ambidextrous) he punched the Crow Chief, hard, with all he had with a sharp hiss of pain. The attacker went down.

Búattaaxalusshish' stood and spat out a mouthful of blood on the ground. "You're fighting with your fists like a white man! Not like a Crow!" he said, with contempt.

Strong Bear threw a left hook which Running Coyote dodged by leaning back and then the Crow slashed the knife at his adversary upwards.

Using his own knife, in a reflex, Artie managed to block it, but winced as a terrible pain hit him and he took a step back, groaning and seeing stars.

He glanced at his chest and shoulder expecting to see blood there, oozing from reopened wounds, but there was none. He sighed in relief and praised Half-Moon for a good job.

Búattaaxalusshish' thrust the knife forward trying to slice the other man in half. But Artemus took two steps back hurriedly, waiting for his next move.

Hearing the thunder booming in the distance, Black Bear saw dark billowing clouds moving like waves of buffalo hordes over the tall trees bare for the winter. He was amazed. It was the first time he had witnessed that – in winter! He shivered as the temperature dropped abruptly and huddled in his warm buffalo fur coat then looked back at the combat.

Staring at Artie cooly, with a lunge, Running Coyote thrust his weapon in an upward motion, aiming at Strong Bear's belly.

Grabbing the Crow Chief's stabbing arm with his free hand, Artemus parried before kneeing Running Coyote in his groin. Twice.

Grimacing in pain, Búattaaxalusshish' moved back a few steps and wobbled on his legs for a second then he ran forward, knife at his side.

He leaped and kicked hard on Artemus's left shin.

Strong Bear let out a strangled cry and collapsed to the icy snow. Running Coyote leaped on the agent like a mountain lion on its prey and pinned Artemus under his weight.

Strong Bear bucked his hips trying to move the Crow warrior off his chest but went still when Running Coyote pressed the sharp edge of his knife against his neck – again.

Búattaaxalusshish's mouth quirked in an expression of satisfaction. "You lost." He pushed the blade deeper, drawing blood again. "I'm going to enjoy this." He declared.

Suddenly, Artemus captured the Indian's wrist in a strong grip and gave it a sharp twist, grinning when the Crow Chief cried out in pain and dropped his knife.

Artie smirked. "Not so fast!"

Punching and kicking his opponent, Artemus managed to push Running Coyote away from him and got to his feet, breathing hard. His strength was starting to fade.

Even if his freshly healed wounds stayed intact, he had not recovered full strength to date, he thought, clenching his jaw.

Black bear and everyone – except Strong Bear and Running Coyote – looked up at the darkening sky, filled with forks of lightning.

Suddenly a loud crack shattered through the air, as lightning struck a tree nearby. People started to worry, became nervous.

Half-Moon joined Black Bear and said, "Running Coyote has provoked the wrath of the Great Spirit! That thunderstorm in the deep of winter is a sign that Akbaatatdia the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above and people is very angry. He doesn't like Strong Bear and Running Coyote, who are not enemies, but both Crow warriors, to fight, until one of them dies. You have to stop this combat, immediately, before the Great Spirit finds a way to stop it."

Before Artie could recuperate just a little, Búattaaxalusshish'yanked another knife out from behind his back and rushed at his adversary, right arm raised and the knife poised to stab down like an icepick.

Strong Bear drove forward with a quick thrust at Running Coyote's midsection but the Indian blocked it just in time, and pushed back against Artie's knife.

Suddenly there was a huge BOOM! And everyone froze in terror as a bolt of lightning hit the tallest of the lodge pine trees forest surrounding the settlement, transforming it into a cascade of flames.

Everyone moved back warily then – everyone except Strong Bear and Running Coyote who were completely focused on circling each other, eyes to eye, studying every possible opening to hurt the other, and in Running Coyote's case kill the other. Strong Bear as for him just wanted to defend himself to be able to neutralize Búattaaxalusshish'.

His jaws tightened, running out of adrenaline and stamina Artemus punched Running Coyote, in the nose and the Crow Chief reeled back.

Then Running Coyote threw himself at his adversary again, knife raised.

Using his last strength, Artie grabbed him by the arm and swung him onto the iced ground, close to the nearest bonfire, but not quick enough to keep him from getting in a slash across his chest. He yelped and fierce pain lanced through him where the blade had cut. He looked down at his buckskin shirt rapidly reddening and grimaced.

Seizing the occasion while Strong Bear was distracted, Running Coyote attacked, he lunged at the other man, again, aiming for a disemboweling move.

His breathing laboured, his vision blurring, Strong Bear dodged to the right to avoid being skewered and slashed at Running Coyote's side, cutting a gash along his hip.

The Crow Chief let out a grunt of pain, his breathing harsh.

They continued to fight against each other, oblivious to the world around them, they were totally focused on their combat.

The tree engulfed in flames started to lean over on one side… and… in the middle of screams of panic it started to topple down to the ground with a deafening noise.

Running Coyote was the first to raise his eyes toward the falling tree, and looking at Strong Bear eyes wide open in terror, he said, "Run!"

But Artie was frozen in place by terror. "Oh boy, I'm so dead..." He breathed out as he could feel his heart hammering in his chest.

But it was too late. The burning lodge pine tree crashed down in the middle of the tepees, right on top of the two knife fighters who disappeared in the middle of flaming branches, hot ash, bits of pines and swirling black clouds of smoke.

Eyes wide opened with horror, Jim was the first to react. He ran at top speed toward the burning tree, quickly followed by White Crow and her sons: Red Eagle and Black Wolf.

Half-Moon sighed. "Akbaatatdia the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above and people stopped the fight."

Moving toward the place where Artie was the last time he had seen him, Jim cried out, to cover the roar of the flames. "Artie? Artie? ARTIE?" but got no response.

Suddenly the thunder boomed again and rain started to fall, hard. Soon it was a deluge of rain, melted snow and hail. The flames vanished in seconds.

Black Bear protected under a tepee, kneeling beside the opening, said, "Akbaatatdia the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above and people is now saving them."

Half-Moon sitting at his side added, "Let's hope they're not going to be badly hurt." Then, he left the tepee heading toward his. He needed to prepare what was necessary to treat burns, cuts and make splints for broken bones, he thought.

Soon as steam replaced smoke, Jim started searching for Artie, White Crow at his side, whereas Red Eagle and Black wolf searched for Running Coyote.

Lightning flashed again, then the pouring rain stopped and the sudden tempest was now moving away rapidly, pushed by strong, whirling winds.

Spotting Artie's immobile form under a couple of large branches, he exclaimed, "He's here!" Then he started to make a passage to him, spreading aside the smaller calcined branches, spanning or crawling under the biggest.

Parts of his clothes, protected from the deluge by branches – were still burning. "Hurry Jim! Hurry!" Jim encouraged himself.

He finally reached his best friend, who was lying close to the soot-darkened trunk, on his front, head to the side, his face bloodied. He gasped, heart clenching, as he discovered that the back of his buckskin shirt was burnt into tatters – and still burning! "Artie… no, no-no-no!" he croaked out, his blood running cold, thinking that he was dead.

Regaining his cool, he removed his own buckskin shirt and with it, he blanketed the flames running along Artie's back, patting him down frantically. They quickly died down in an instant, leaving behind a small cloud of dark smoke.

Then, his hands shaking uncontrollably, he pressed trembling fingers into the side of his partner's throat. He could feel a pulse.

His skin was damp and cold. He shook him. "Artie?" But the older man was unresponsive.

He sighed in relief and with White Crow's help, managed to extricate him from the pile of branches. He scooped his unconscious partner up, and with one hand under his legs, the other supporting his back, he carried Artemus to Half-Moon's tepee, White Crow in tow. Soon they were followed by Red Eagle and Black Wolf, holding the inert form of Running Coyote.

WWW

 _Much later, that night_

It was late at night when Artemus woke up, both confused and disoriented. He screamed as his nerves registered the pain – a pain which tore through him unlike anything he had ever felt before. A wave of nausea washed over him and he swallowed, jaw clenched, fighting the urge to vomit. He wanted to curl up on himself in an instinctive move of protection but discovered that he couldn't.

He abruptly came out of his shock. He was naked. No, but close. He was wearing something – probably a breechcloth.

He was lying on his front, spread-eagled, on a bed of blankets, his head resting on a buffalo fur pillow – and his arms and legs were tied with leather thongs to wooden pickets buried in the ground. "What?" He rasped, panting, his whole body shaking. He quickly glanced around and recognized Half-Moon's tepee through the semi-darkness of the 'room'. "What's going on? Half-Moon?" he coughed and winced, clearing his scratchy throat. Feeling fingers on his throbbing lower back, at the level of his black eagle tattoo, he flinched. "Who's there? Why am I prisoner?"

Smiling, White Crow said, "Half-Moon is not here, just me. Stay calm, Strong Bear. And you're not prisoner, but immobilized. It's only temporary. I was against this, but Half-Moon insisted in keeping you like this. He thinks it's the best way to treat your grave burns and blisters without you being able to aggravate them by moving while he'll clean your burns and spread his ointments. It's going to be very painful, he told me. But the burns should heal completely, with no scars left, within the next two days."

He gritted his teeth and lifted his head. This simple move started a wave of blinding pain. "It's torture already… that hurts! Why doesn't he give me some of his sleeping potion, instead of this?"

White Crow sighed. "He gave his last sleeping potion to Running Coyote. He can't make a new one because he doesn't have the necessary ingredients. He sent Peelatchiwaaxpáash (Raven) to the mountain to find them. He should be back within hours."

Shaking his head in resignation, Artemus said, "Just my luck…" He felt beads of sweat prickle his forehead. "My fever was gone, now it's back."

She sat cross-legged beside him and ran her hand through his tangled hair. Your burns are infected; there are dirt and pine in them, that's why. Half-Moon already treated the knife wounds and the one on your scalp caused by the branches. He will clean and treat your burns later." She played with the curls on his temple and added, "I washed your blood-matted hair…"

Eyes locked with White Crow's Artie finally realized that he was alive and he grinned, immensely relieved. "I should be dead."

Leaning toward Artemus, the Crow woman kissed his temple. "A few inches to the left and you would have been crushed by the tree. James and I pulled you out. But you were severely burnt on your back and legs. Akbaatatdia the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above and people, protects you, you can't die."

He smiled. "I'm not immortal."

She brushed his nose. "No, you will die, one day. Like I told James, all the warriors who were marked in their flesh by the eagle's talons didn't die in battles. They became old wise and respected Chiefs and all of them died in peace, surrounded by their family. Akbaatatdia will protect you Strong Bear, until it's time for you to meet your ancestors. It was so angered that Running Coyote and you – two Crows! - were fighting in a mortal duel, that it started a tempest and used a thunderbolt to bring down a tree… which crashed on top of you, stopping the knife fight – while protecting you, doing that as the same time. But you were badly burnt… on your back. But with the help of Half-Moon's medicine, they will heal fast and they will fade before vanishing completely."

Closing his eyes, grimacing as his burns throbbed, Artemus asked, "How's Running Coyote?"

Brushing her fingertips along Artie's stubbled jawline White Crow responded. "He was injured, like you, burnt too, on his arms and legs. He's under Black Bear's tepee. Half-Moon is taking care of him there. As his burns are more serious than yours, he's treating them first. He preferred taking care of him under my father's tepee – far from you – expecting an ugly verbal fight. And he didn't want that. Plus, Black Bear wanted to bring Running Coyote to reason so that he changes his attitude on the subject of you. You didn't do anything wrong… but Running Coyote's been a grieving father for so long… His sorrow prevailed over his reason, and I understand that."

Nodding, Artemus re-opened his eyes and said, "I do too. Where's Jim?"

White Crow replied, "He spent the whole day at your side, helping Half-Moon to slowly, and gently remove your burned clothes from your burnt and blistered skin… and it took some time, then he helped him to clean your body and injuries, then the medicine man sent him away to rest. He's under Yellow Bird 's tepee. I think they love each other a lot."

Moving onto her knees, White Crow took a bucket sitting next to the opening of the tepee, then placed it between her and Artie. "It's cold water," She said.

Nodding, Artie said, "Please. My skin is on fire. But first… I'm so thirsty. Breathed fire too…" He licked his parched lips.

Smiling, White Crow nodded. She took the wooden cup which was floating there, plunged it under the cold water then raised Artie's chin. She placed the cup against her lover's lips. He took a few sips first, and moaned as the iced water doused the dry desert in his mouth and down his throat. Then he swallowed the whole of the liquid moaning in bliss.

Following that, she poured the cold water on top of Artie's burns. "Some cool water will help with the pain… until Half-Moon gives you something to make it disappear."

Closing his eyes again, Artemus whimpered with a slight wince as the burning heat in his back cooled almost immediately. "Oh Boy… Feels so good. Don't ever stop."

Thirsty, White Crow took a sip of cold water then watched rivulets of liquid pool in Artie's small of his back – on his tattoo.

She fingered it. "Your tattoo is intact," She said, "as well as the scars left by the eagle's talons. It's a sign that the Great Spirit protects you."

Sighing, Artie said, "Yes, but he could avoid injuring me and making me suffer… "

Tracing the outlines of the Comanche eagle White Crow replied. "The great warriors are wounded and suffer because they fight valiantly against their enemies ... and they endure suffering with courage and dignity without any complaint."

Chuckling Artie rasped, "Ow… I'm not a great warrior then… Ow! That hurts!"

She kissed his shoulder blade – where the skin wasn't peeling off from where it had been exposed to the flames. "You are a great Crow warrior, don't doubt it, but as a white man, you haven't been trained since childhood like Crows to bear the pain and not to show it because we consider that it is a sign of weakness."

He groaned. "Well, I am a very emotional man, and I don't think emotions are bad, on the contrary. They are part of me, and have forged the man that I am. My mother didn't forbid me to cry out, to cry or to whine, when I was hurt., like the others did On the contrary, she encouraged me to express all my emotions freely, to be in 'complete harmony with myself''. Humans have emotions and should be allowed to express them, all of them. That's why I became a good actor; I can play anything, comedy, tragedy, musical theatre and any role, male or female… Oh no!"

Frowning in worry, White Crow asked, "What is it?"

He cringed. "I need to pee…"

WWW

 _Later_

His bladder empty, feeling better, Artemus slowly, very slowly lowered himself onto the bed of blankets and, once lying on his front, he spread his legs and arms, groaning in pain. Each movement, as minimal as it is was, was very, very painful.

Everything ached, stung and hurt.

He watched White Crow tie his right wrist to the wooden picket buried in the ground and said, "If I promise not to move, can you let me free?" he asked.

Shaking her head White Crow said, "No. I know, it's not a comfortable position, but when Half-Moon comes to treat your burns, you will instinctively move, trying to move away from the pain and move away from Half-Moon and you will aggravate them doing that."

She moved to the other side and looped the leather thong to the left picket. Not too tight.

Resting his head on the pillow of buffalo fur, Artie smiled at White Crow and continued, "I can see that you're pretty good at immobilizing a man like that. Something tells me that you have had a lot of practice in doing that… and not related to treating wounds."

She leaned toward him and kissed his temple. "Crows had many enemies when I was younger like the Lakota and their allies, the Arapaho and Cheyenne, who stole our horses. And Cheyenne started again! That's why we are fighting them." She sat cross-legged beside him and added, "I captured many warriors… and some of them died – in that position. They died of heat or cold, it depended on the weather then, or they were devoured by wolves or bears... or both." She moved onto her knees to lift Artie's left ankle and tied it to the picket. Then she ran a hand on his smooth calf up to the bend of his knee. "I noticed that you shaved your legs…"

Smiling, Artie nodded. "Yes, I usually shave my legs when I'm playing a woman for a mission, even if no one can see my hairy legs. It's part of the character I'm playing. I find it natural. I shaved my armpits and my chest too."

Immobilizing the right ankle, White Crow said, "I noticed."

She was running a finger along Artie's spine, eliciting moans and small shivers of pleasure when Half-Moon entered his tepee.

He frowned at White Crow who raised her chin defiantly and said, "I'm staying. I'm going to give my strength to Strong Bear." Then she moved to his side and grabbed his hand. "He will need it."

Half-Moon huffed and rummaged through his terracotta pots before finding what he needed: a liquid antiseptic, then he took a cloth, tweezers made of bone and a sharp knife.

He poured antiseptic liquid onto the tweezers and knife then he knelt beside Artemus, on the side not taken by White Crow, "Running Coyote is out of danger. I will keep him here until he's fit to go back to his band. It's the first good news," he said. "The second good news is that he realized that he acted like a fool. He should have thanked you for having found Red Bear's remains and brought them here, instead of trying to kill you. You weren't responsible for what happened. He knows that now, and wants to make peace with you," he added.

Stiffening, anticipating the coming pain, Artie said. "That is good news indeed. Try to be gentle, Half-Moon, please."

Half-Moon nodded. "White Crow placed something in Strong Bear's mouth; I don't want him to bite his tongue. It's going to be painful."

White Crow placed a wooden spoon in Artie's mouth.

Half-Moon started removing loose, dead or burned skin and other external debris (dirt, pieces of bark, pine needles) slowly and gently – and Artie whimpered, groaned, grunted. He yelped when the old Crow popped his blisters with the tip of his knife.

Half-Moon trimmed dead skin from popped blisters using sterile scissors. This time Artemus cried out and tears ran down his face.

Then a few minutes later his screams echoed throughout the settlement.

WWW

Hearing Artemus screaming, Jim bolted out of Yellow Bird's bed of buffalo furs and out of her arms, grabbed a blanket and rushed toward Half-Moon's tepee.

He entered the cone-shaped tent one minute later and froze in place at the scene: Artie, just wearing a breechcloth was lying on his front, spread-eagle, on a bed of blankets, his head resting on a buffalo fur pillow – and his arms and legs were tied with leather thongs to wooden pickets buried in the ground. He was screaming hoarsely, trying to shrink away from Half-Moon, from the pain, the ropes cutting into his wrists and ankles.

The medicine man, knife in hand, was opening a large nasty red burn to let the pus ooze out which was surrounded by open blisters also oozing blood.

Horrified, Jim's face blanched and the younger agent, nauseous, gagged. He took a step further. "Stop it!" He commanded.

Half-Moon shook his head. "It hurts, I know. But I have to remove the pus before…" and stopped what he was saying when Jim grabbed his wrist.

Feeling guilty at having let his best friend be 'tortured' by Half-Moon, regretting having spent his time in Yellow Bird's bed rather than being at his blood-brother's side, Jim looked down at Artie, who was now heaving for breath and crying against the pillow of buffalo fur. "I'm so sorry, Artie, I should have stayed at your side, but you were with White Crow… so I left the two of you together… please forgive me." Then, he stared at the medicine man, frowning angrily. "What's happening here? Why are you treating him like this?"

Half-Moon raised a calming hand. "I ran out of sleeping potion. Immobilizing Strong Bear is the only solution I found – except hitting him on his head to render him unconscious – a solution that I rejected, I don't harm the people I take care of, - to be able to treat his burns without him moving and aggravating them."

Calming down, Jim said, "I'm sorry. There's another non-harmful way to knock him out." Then he knelt between Artie's legs and placed his hand on Artemus's neck and explained, "There's another way to render a man unconscious without causing any damage. Let me show you…" Using his other hand he ran his fingers into Artemus's hair, making soothing circles. "It's going to be alright buddy. You're not going to have pain anymore."

His response was sobbing whimpers.

Half-Moon focused on Jim's right hand. "Show me," she asked.

Showing the trapezius neck bundle, Jim explained, ".You need to apply pressure near the base of the neck, at the shoulder, precisely press the subclavian artery and it's instantaneously blocks blood and nerve responses from reaching the brain, leading to a deep unconsciousness."

He did this a few seconds later and Artie went limp.

Suddenly the flap covering the opening of the tepee was pushed to one side and Peelatchiwaaxpáash (Raven) entered.

He was holding a bag with the necessary ingredients for Half-Moon's sleeping potion.

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 _Two days later, at night_

Slowly, Artemus stirred in his bed of blankets and not quite awake he felt a body pressed against him leave his and suddenly cold, he grumbled something muffled and groaned. But as his eyes fluttered open, he felt the bodily warmth come back and he moaned in pleasure. He first saw a blurred form close to him, then, while blinking, his vision cleared and he realized that it was… Jim's face, close to his.

His cheek nestled in the crook of his arm, Jim said, "Hi Artie."

Still surprised that his partner – and not White Crow - was lying at his side, on his side, smiling, head propped on the same buffalo hide pillow as his, he replied, "Hi Jim."

The second thing he noticed was that Jim and he were both cocooned in thick blankets and the third thing he noticed was that the pain was gone. He sighed in relief. "You're not White Crow," he rasped, his cheek resting against his palm, voice rough with sleep.

Jim chuckled. "And I'm sure you're very disappointed. No, it's just me. White Crow is on her way back to her tepee to get some rest. She's just left."

Artie was very disappointed. "Why? She could have slept at my side, instead of you." He sighed. "Don't tell me, I know what happened. Half-Moon told her to leave when I emerged from sleep?"

Jim nodded. "Exactly, and she wasn't happy about that believe me. Half-Moon thought that you wouldn't be able to fall asleep again if White Crow was lying at your side – unable to touch you - so he asked me to share my body heat with you, instead of her, as you need to be warm constantly, because it favours the healing process. So I'm here, and not White Crow. As for Half-Moon he left too. He had planned home visits. Two women are pregnant."

It was Artie's turn to chuckle. "I don't mind sharing blankets with you, Jim, and sharing body heat, we did it before, but I prefer 'partners' with more curves than you have – and less clothes than you have." He sniffed and then wrinkled his nose, grimacing at the stench. "Let me guess, my back and legs are covered with layers of Half-Moon's healing ointment?"

Propping himself on one elbow Jim said. "Yes and your wounds need to be covered with the medicine all the time and ointment reapplied as necessary until the burns heal completely." He smirked. "You look like a mummy with all those bandages…"

Nodding, Artemus finally realized that he wasn't tied up anymore. "Knocking me out like you did is harmless once, twice… but after that it can lead to permanent damage to the trapezius neck bundle. Then, I suppose that you did that to me twice, and then Half-Moon made new sleeping potion and made me drink some of it. But I don't remember it. Did I sleep long?"

Moving onto his back, Jim turned his head to face Artie and replied, 'Two days, and you needed that, and White Crow stayed at your side for two days, watching over you. Thanks to Half-Moon's magical medicine, your burns are almost completely healed."

Pleased to hear that, Artemus smiled. "Then we should be able to go home in a few days to tell the President: mission accomplished."

Shaking his head, Jim said, "Going back to the Wanderer will have to wait, Artie. The civil Indian agent, a man named Robinson came here yesterday. He had received a telegram from Colonel Richmond telling him where we were followed by a new assignment. I told him what happened, with the Cheyenne and the Crows that everything had been settled and he told me he will send a message to Washington."

Frowning, chagrined, Artie almost pouted like a vexed child and Jim chuckled softly. He knew why. Artemus loved telling good news to Ulysses S. Grant he considered as a surrogate father, so the President would be proud of him, and then he would be pleased he was proud of him.

Upset, Artie said, "So the Colonel and the President both know that we were succeeded. I wanted to tell that to them myself…"

Smiling Jim added, "I'm sure that Grant will congratulate you in person, Artie the next time we see him." He paused watching Artie smile happily at that." You remember Barney Finn? He escaped from the penitentiary he was in a week ago and headed where he thought no one would find him – to the Indian Territory. But he wasn't lucky. Robinson, the civil Indian agent saw him enter the reservation between two patrols of cavalry when he was leaving Fort Harris, and he recognized him. They served in the same regiment during the war. He tried to stop him, but Finn was too quick and he disappeared into a deep forest. As no white man can enter the Indian Territory, he sent a telegram to his superior in the Capital for orders. Should he go and fetch him, or let the Indians bring him back to him? Somehow Colonel Richmond learnt about that and… telegraphed our new orders to Robinson, who came here, and you know the rest of the story." He paused and added, "Finn's out there, somewhere, hiding in the mountains. We have to find him and bring him back to prison."

Rubbing one tired eye, Artie noticed that the pain was minimal, dull. "Easy, it's like looking for a needle in a haystack... fortunately the Indians can help us locate Finn. Fort Harris is near the eastern boundary of the Crow Reserve, if I remember correctly, and Running Coyote is the chief of the largest band there. Now that we have buried the hatchet, he'll give us a few warriors to help us." He yawned. "Speaking of Running Coyote is he still here?" he asked.

Jim shook his head. "No, he's gone. He visited you this morning to say goodbye, and to apologize but you were sleeping like a rock, and as he wouldn't disturb you, he left. He's on his way back to his settlement."

Rubbing his itching bearded chin Artie murmured, "I'm not sure I'll be able to stand, even less ride a horse." Then he yawned.

Pulling the blanket higher on Artie's shoulders, Jim said, "Finn is not going to go anywhere. Our mew assignment can wait."

Closing his eyes, Artemus mumbled, "A bear could maul him… so we wouldn't have to…" He yawed again and started to drift. "To bring him back… it's a long way." Shivering, feeling suddenly cold, despite the thick blankets and the nearby fire, he instinctively snuggled up against his partner searching for warmth. "'Night Jim." He pressed his face against Jim's chest feeling so very warm and closed his eyes. He relaxed, his breathing evened out and he fell asleep.

Smiling, Jim said, "'Night Artie." Lazy and comfortable, he curled up against his best friend, in their warm nest of blankets and drifted asleep in each other's breathing.

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 _Two days later_

 _Under White Crow's tepee_

 _In the morning_

Hearing horses neigh outside, White Crow woke up, slowly. She opened her eyes and a small smile curled her lips at the sight.

She was pressed against Strong Bear's warm body, her left arm slung over his chest, hugging him from behind, their legs entangled, cocooned under a couple of warm blankets. Artemus was still asleep; snoring lightly snuggled up against her.

She started running her fingers through Artemus's dark locks and he stirred and slowly rolled onto his side, facing her.

He shuffled closer to her and White Crow met him halfway.

She placed a kiss on her lover's forehead, where his hairline was. "Good morning," she said, running her fingers through Artemus's messy bed hair sticking out in every angle possible, bringing him out of his sleep. "Wake up, my daxpitchée (bear)." She kissed his bare shoulder softly. "Good morning," she repeated.

Not completely awake, Artie 'mmmed' and nuzzled softly against White Crow's neck. Then, "'ning," he murmured against her throat.

Smiling, White Crow tightened her arm around his waist, pulling him even closer and trailed a series of warm, open-mouthed kisses across Artie's neck and let out a moan, loving the scratchy stubbles of his beard against her skin.

Bending his elbow, he propped up his head on his hand. "Possessive…" He whispered, feeling her drawing random patterns onto his bare back, slowly with her fingertips.

Her smile broadened. "I am. I thought you liked it."

Mirroring White Crow's smile, Artie reached over and slid his hand down her side and onto her hip, "I love that," he said. "You're so beautiful," he breathed.

She placed her mouth on his neck, kissing and nipping, then she started sucking on the skin there, before she bit down, hard but not enough to draw blood.

Artie yelped in both surprise and pain as White Crow marked him with her teeth, sucking on his skin for a few more moments before letting go of him with a sloppy, wet kiss – leaving a hickey, surrounded by reddened teeth marks.

Pleased at what she had done, White Crow grinned. "Mine! You're mine, Artemus Gordon – Strong Bear. And you will think about me, for weeks seeing that bite."

He brushed her temple. "You're always in my mind, White Crow." He closed his eyes, letting the memories from last night flood through his mind. He kissed the shell of her ear. "You're so beautiful," he breathed.

She rolled onto her back, drawing Artemus into her arms, on top of her tall, thin, athletic body, her long raven hair spread on the buffalo fur pillow. "And you're handsome." She pressed a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. "Did you sleep well?"

He moaned deeply as she ran her hand down his spine. "In your arms, always," he replied, caressing her hip with tender strokes. He chuckled. "And you wore me out last night." He kissed her eyelids and cheeks. Then he lowered his lips to White Crow's neck and started to place light kisses all the way up to her ear. "I could stay like this forever…" he whispered.

White Crow smiled. "Me too…" Her smile suddenly faded and she furrowed her brow. "But you can't. You have to leave."

He shushed her with a finger on her lips. "I don't want to talk about that now. We had a wonderful night, let's have a wonderful morning." Following that, he kissed White Crow's neck, lips brushing against the heated skin at the pulse point.

She sighed. "I don't want you to leave," she said.

He whispered, "Shhh…" and started nibbling on her earlobe now. "No talking," he added, lowering his mouth to hers.

He captured her lips into a slow, passionate kiss.

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 _Later,_

 _In the afternoon_

Rubbing Mo's muzzle, Artemus said, "I know, it's heavy, but Jim and I need a place to sleep at night, and preferably not a dark cave with an angry bear." He glanced at the small packed tepee attached onto the painted horse's back and added, "Red Eagle and Black Wolf offered us this, it's a tepee for two, just for Jim and me. It's small, lightweight and transportable, and easy assembled. They use them when they go hunting together. It's a beautiful gift. We'll be a little cramped, but it will keep us sheltered."

Mo'éhno'ha Ȯhtameōhtsėstse looked at Lockpick standing at his side, meaning, "Why me? And not him?" then he huffed.

Smiling, Artie patted his Cheyenne horse's neck. "Lockpick is not as strong as you, buddy. That's why you have the tepee on your back and not him."

Mo nodded.

Artemus smiled. "That's a good boy."

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, he turned around and took White Crow in his arms. "I'm going to miss you so much," he said. "I will come back, one day. But I don't know when."

White Crow smoothed hair off Artie's forehead, then took his hand in hers and smiled. "I'm going to miss you too, so much, Strong Bear – I mean Artemus." She pulled him against her and added, "In the meantime, I will cherish the memory of our last night together, making love, wildly, for hours, until you come back here, then we'll make love again, and again until we are too exhausted to move."

Kissing White Crow's fingers, Artie blushed a little as images of passionate lovemaking popped into his mind, and he nodded. "Like last night. I won't forget it either… That was intense, to say the least."

She leaned her forehead against his. "Don't go. Stay with me. We could live here together, make love and have strong children."

Shaking his head, Artie said, "I'd like to stay, but I can't. I'm sorry." He sighed and reluctantly pulled back. "I'm a Crow warrior, I know, and a member of this band, but my place is not here, White Crow, but at my partner's side, protecting the President and this country. My duty is sacred in my eyes, like protecting your band from your enemies is sacred to you." He sighed and took a step back.

Resigned White Crow nodded, "Duty above all else, I know. You told me that before." She pressed herself against Artie, snaked her arms around his solid body and hugged him tight and she captured Artie's lips with hers for a long, deep kiss. She closed her eyes and moaned in pleasure as Artemus's mouth moved against her, gently, tenderly.

Hands intertwined, they kissed until they were both breathless.

Artie pulled back again, and White Crow whimpered at the loss. "Promise me you will come back," she said, as she lowered her arms.

He kissed White Crow one last time, sucking at her bottom lip before letting go entirely. "I will," he said. He gently stroked White Crow's cheek with his thumb. "I promise."

He mounted Lockpick's back and glanced at Jim, dressed like him in their own clothes – some old women had repaired and cleaned - ready to leave the settlement on Blackjack.

He looked down at her and blew her a kiss. "Love you," he said.

She smiled, with teary eyes. "I love you too." She looked up at Jim. "Safe travel, and keep an eye on Strong Bear. Protect him."

Jim nodded. "I will."

Tbc.


	5. Act Four

**THE NIGHT OF THE PEACEMAKER**

 **By Andamogirl**

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 **ACT FOUR**

 _A week later_

 _At dawn_

Looking up at a high cliff towering in front of them, Uuwatchiilapish (Iron Bull) pointed at a small dark cavity located almost at the top and in Apsáalookěi (Crow language) said, "He's up there." Then he pointed downward at a group of pine lodge trees covered by accumulated snow. "His horse is there, in another cave. He's out of reach of bears and wolves, but his horse is not. It's not a good idea to leave him there without protection. Even if he hid the horse, animals could smell it and attack."

Looking at their 10 year old guide, Artemus smiled and using Crow language too said, "He left it here because horses can't climb cliffs, Uuwatchiilapish." His smile broadened and he added, "But if his horse was Pegasus, the winged-horse, it would have been able to fly up there…"

Iron Bull opened his eyes wide. "A horse with wings?" Does it exist?" He asked, in English.

Jim glanced at the Crow boy accompanying them. "No, it doesn't. Are you sure he's here?" glancing again at the high-perched cave.

Iron Bull nodded. "Yes, I'm sure. I was hunting when I spotted him traveling here after he shot an elk and ripped it in pieces for food. He didn't see me. I already told you that at the settlement after you described the man you were searching for." He frowned, upset. "Why are you asking me this? If you don't believe me, why did you come here with me?"

Smiling soothingly, Artie said, "We believe you, Uuwatchiilapish…"

Looking up at the cave lodged in the middle of a high cliff, Jim added, "Boys sometimes make up stories to make themselves important…"

Iron Bull glared at James West. "I'm not! I told you the truth! He's here! Hidden in that cave." He lowered his hand toward his knife. "Crow don't lie!"

Placing a calming hand on the boy's shoulder Jim, said, "I believe you. I just wanted to test you. Forgive me, I'm the suspicious type. It's a quality that keeps me alive."

Relaxing, the boy nodded. "Warriors need to be suspicious to stay alive, I understand. I forgive you." Looking up at the mouth of the cave again, Iron Bull added, "As he needs to feed, he probably has a long rope to leave the cave and go back inside. He is settled up there. The cave must be very deep, because I have not seen the light of his fire or its smoke.

Pulling his thick coat (repaired and cleaned by a few Crow women, like his sweater and shirt) tighter around his body , Artemus nodded, "A long, long, long rope," he said. Dismounting Mo'éhno'ha Ȯhtameōhtsėstse (Lockpick had stayed in Running Coyote's settlement, twenty miles away), he continued, "Mmm... I'm not a good climber, but at least I'm not scared of heights."

Dismounting Blackjack, Jim patted his best friend's arm encouragingly. "Nothing scares you, Artie. On second thought, yes, there's one thing, or rather one man who intimidates you, rather than scares you." Then he took the long rope attached to his saddle, sliding it up his arm before settling it on his shoulder.

Curious, Artie frowned. "Who?"

Pulling up the furred collar of his coat (admirably repaired, like his ruined sweater and shirt, cleaned of blood) Jim responded, "He's short, round-shouldered, has a beard, blue eyes and loves smoking very large and very strong cigars…"

Pressing his hat on his head to protect it from the frost biting chill of the snow and biting cold air, Artemus chuckled and replied, "Only when he scolds me, and it's very rare. Grant can be very intimidating, you're right." His teeth chattered. "Brrrr! Let's move up there before I turn into a statue of ice, and before the sun's up too. We're in a position where he will be able to see us but we won't be able to see him." He aimed his gaze toward the crystal clear sky, stars slowly fading in the pink lights of the dawn, and he sighed in relief. "At least there's no snow storm looming overhead." He watched then the bright rays of sunlight reflected off the snow-capped rounded tops of the Basawaxaawúua (Big Horn Mountains). "Beautiful," he whispered.

Looking up at Iron Bull still mounted on his spotted horse, Jim said, "You stay here. If you don't have any news from us by the end of the day, go back to the settlement for help."

Iron Bull nodded. "I will."

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 _Later_

Faces growing numb with cold, looking straight forward, the two men headed toward the line of tall trees pushing through the snowdrifts.

The snow was crunching under their feet as they trudged through a blanket of pure white powdery snowflakes that covered the landscape in front of them, the snow going deeper the higher they hiked toward the cliff, making it difficult for them to continue.

His muscles sore and his whole body aching from the cold, Artie stopped in the deep snow. "I'm going to ask for a leave, a long leave, after we return home. I'm beat. I intend to go to my mom's home and let her pamper me," he rasped, breathing hard in the limited mountain oxygen, every breath creating a little cloud of steam in the freezing air.

Clasping his partner's shoulder in a comforting gesture, Jim said, "Hang on a little longer buddy. We still have Finn to capture and put back behind bars."

Half an hour later, being frozen to the bone, snow at the level of their hips, legs aching, panting, they reached the line of tall ice-covered trees and later the base of the gray, rocky, almost vertical cliff.

Snow drifts had piled up there and there was a solid snow rift covered with a thick layer of blue ice to climb up before reaching the rock face.

Looking upward, Artemus sighed dreading the climb. "The last time we had to climb a cliff, you had my rifle-powered grappling hook with you. It was easy."

Pulling out his knife from its sheath, Jim said, "I remember. It was before we met that Inca Queen… It's a very useful invention for a not too high cliff. It would be useless here."

Imitating Jim Artie nodded. "Next time I will build something more powerful for high cliffs. Or better, I've had the idea to build a rocket-propulsion device strapped to a man, which would work with superheated water vapor. That invention would propel the wearer through the air. He could take off and land vertically, to hover, and to fly forward, backward, and laterally."

Grinning, Jim said, "Ah, Artie! You're marvelous. I admire your imagination! – and talent to build the most extraordinary devices!" Then, using his knife, he started digging holes to put his feet into in the wall of snow and ice standing in front of him.

Using his own knife, Artemus helped his partner. "I can't see any trace of Finn's passage here," he said glancing around him.

Jim nodded. "I know. I suppose the snow was much higher than now when he took refuge in that cave, level with the top of that wall. So he had just to climb on it."

Sending pieces of ice all around him, Artie nodded. "That's a possible explanation. Or he used another way to come and go from his hiding place."

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 _Two hours later_

Both standing on the top of the wall of snow and ice, the two men observed the vertical cliff, searching for jagged rocks which would make good footholds to make it easier to climb up. Most of the face was quite smooth but they managed to spot dozens of them, probably the same that Finn had used to climb up there.

Pressing Artemus's shoulder in a comforting gesture, Jim said, "Follow me, and don't fall. White Crow will scalp me if I let you die."

Smiling Artie added, "And it would be just the beginning of your problems, Mr. West. White Crow would take her time torturing you."

Using one end of his rope, Jim attached it around Artemus's waist, and then did the same thing to his own with the other end. "If you fall, I'll catch you."

Frowning, not reassured Artie said, "And if you fall, as you'll be above me, thanks to your weight and momentum and the help of gravity, you will pull me with you in your fall. Not great."

Falsely upset, Jim said, "My weight? Are you insinuating that I'm heavy? Look at yourself in a mirror Artie, I'm sure that you and I have the same weight now. More or less."

Looking up at the cliff Artie sighed, breath misting in the frigid air. "I know that and it's going to take some time before I reach my old normal frame." Then, like Jim he removed his gloves and put them in his pockets.

Smiling Jim slipped his hand in a small crack. "Being a 'lightweight' is going to help you to climb up, Artie. Okay, let's go."

Following Jim who was climbing the rock face like he was a mountain goat, Artie suddenly stopped, breathless, Jim tugging on the rope tethering them together. His strength was declining in the limited oxygen of the freezing air.

Looking down at his best friend in alarm, Jim asked, "You okay Artie?"

Nodding, Artie croaked, his breath steaming in the cold air. "Need… a… pause. Old man here. Besides… was hurt, burnt…" He was gasping for breath and his shoulders, arms and legs were burning with the effort.

He glanced up at the cliff then looked down again at Artie frozen onto an outcropping, "We're halfway from the mouth of the cave."

His breathing back under control, Artemus said, "Let's move!" then he searched for another handhold, found one and resumed the climb.

He was now shivering, his teeth chattering. As the altitude increased, the temperature decreased and he was freezing.

Mountain goat-Jim re-started his ascent.

The climb was going rather smoothly until Artemus came to a halt again. "I need to take another pause…" he rasped, grimacing in pain. "Everything hurts…"

Smiling encouragingly, Jim said, "We're almost there, just a few minutes more and we'll reach the entrance to the cave."

Gathering his strength, Artie nodded. "Okay, but I'm going to write in the report that I hate mountains and cliffs in particular, and climbing cliffs, and snow, and ice and everything cold…"

Moving upward, Jim chuckled. "Ice-cream excepted."

Nodding, Artie barely had enough stamina to smile. "Of course," he whispered as his movements began being sluggish and uncoordinated.

He followed Jim but his limbs were ready to give out. "Jim! I need another pau…" The end of his sentence was replaced with a strangled cry of terror as his right foot slipped out of a particularly narrow foothold, as at the same time, the rock under his hands crumbled to rubble, making him lose his balance. His hands shot out, catching nothing but empty air, and he went sliding down the cliff face with panic-filled eyes. "Jiiiiiiiiiiiim!" he screamed at the top of his lungs as he plummeted down toward the ground.

In a flash, Jim reacted: he grabbed the cold stone in front of him tightly and bent his knees to absorb the shock of his partner's fall.

He gritted his teeth and grunted when the rope tethering them together went taut and halted Artemus's free fall, almost pulling him backward and bruising his stomach and hips.

But he resisted, muscles strained with effort, grasping the rock formation under his fingers as Artie dangled below him. "Hold on, Artie!" he said.

Reaching an outcropping of rock, adrenalin flooding his system, Artie managed to stabilize himself and stayed there, plastered against the rock face, his breaths coming in raspy, pained gasps until he finally calmed down. "I'm okay," he said, his whole body trembling. He winced. "Ow! Maybe not…"

He noticed that his hands were scraped, cut and bleeding. He had hurt them when he was desperately trying to catch the sharp edges of protruding rocks as he was falling and the rope had left deep gashes in his palms when he was swinging in the air, clutching it in sheer panic before he could reach the rock face.

Looking down at Artie, Jim noticed that his partner's hands were covered with blood. The friction against the sometimes sharp rock wall had hurt him, he thought. "Okay, take your time…"

Slowly, painfully, Artemus climbed up the rock face, groaning with each movement, following Jim dreading each second that he would fall again and take his best friend with him.

Finally, a little more than half-an hour later, they reached the dark opening of the cave, gusts of wind carrying snow inside and Artemus collapsed in a heap there, passed out from exhaustion and pain.

Kneeling beside Artemus, Jim un-roped them and then took a look at his partner's hands, wincing at the sight of the raw bleeding gashes. "Oh Artie…"

He opened his coat, and was ready to tear off the bottom of his shirt to make improvised bandages when, in a corner, he spotted a very, very long rope, with one end solidly tied to a huge stalagmite and saddlebags both belonging to Finn resting against the cave wall.

He opened them and was happy to find a small bag containing a rudimentary medical kit inside. "Perfect! Just what I need," he murmured.

Kneeling back beside a still passed-out Artie, he poured disinfectant on his best friend's injured hands… eliciting a series of moans of pain.

He dabbed the blood with a cloth, then wrapped Artie's injured hands in bandages, then when Artie opened his eyes, he immediately placed a finger on his lips, shushing him. "Ssshhh… Any tiny sound resonates in this cave. I don't want Finn to hear us, we must catch him off his guard," he murmured.

Nodding, Artemus gritted his teeth as the burning pain radiated out over his arms and shoulders. "It's okay," he breathed out. He let his best friend gently maneuver him into a sitting position. He grunted as every little movement hurt. "Thanks," he whispered. Then he realized that Jim was placing a small brown bottle back in a bag and he could smell disinfectant. Then he spotted the rope and the saddlebags sitting against the cave wall and added, in a low voice. "Let's take Finn's first aid kit with us, I'm sure we'll need it, we're not yet out of danger, on board the Wanderer."

Smiling, Jim patted Artie's leg in a friendly way, "Well, that's not a good example. The Wanderer isn't exactly a safe place, buddy. We've been attacked on board many times."

Looking at his bandaged hands, Artemus said, "You're right, let's say, there's no safe place, except Grant's office in the White House."

Narrowing his eyes, Jim said, "You attacked the President in his office, with a knife, Artie. Now he has two more guards in the corridor."

Remembering the 'incident' Artie cringed. "I wasn't myself at the time… He forgave me for that. But I think I'm going to apologize to him for what I did, for the rest of my life." He placed his forearm on Jim's shoulder, winced and added, "Thank you Jim, you saved my life."

Sitting cross-legged beside his best friend, Jim smiled and said, "It was a pleasure. I guess it's your turn now to save mine."

Shivering Artie nodded. "Boy! I'm so cold. Let's move from here before we both freeze to death!" and with Jim's help, he stood. He unholstered his gun and pain flared. "Hurts like hell!"

Holding his own revolver, Jim pointed at the darkened end of the cave. "Let's find Finn, Artie, and let me do the gun work, if it's necessary."

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 _Later_

For fifteen minutes or so, the two men followed a long natural tunnel (a wild river ran there thousand years before) in pitch darkness – Jim running his fingers and Artemus his elbows – along the rim to guide themselves forward, to finally end up in a large room almost completely occupied by a large pool filled with clear green water.

Crouching behind a rock, Jim and Artie easily located Barney Finn. The fugitive was sitting beside a fire – the smoke dissipating before it reached the vault of the cave which was covered in stalactites.

He was sitting on a blanket and reading a book while eating pieces of grilled meat hanging on an improvised skewer (a large twig).

Spotting rocks to the side, lined up next to each other, Jim said, "Artie, you sneak in there while I go and say hello to Finn. Cover me!"

Shaking his head Artie murmured, "You're going to be exposed, it's too dangerous. Let me go with you. Two revolvers are better than one."

Placing a reassuring hand on Artemus's shoulder Jim whispered, "No, we stick to the plan. Don't worry; it's going to be alright. He won't have time to reach for his gun, believe me. I killed Lightning McCoy in a duel, remember? But in case something happens, you'll be there."

Smiling, Artie replied, "Be careful, Jim," and then he headed toward the rocks forming a natural barrier near the cave wall.

Once he knew that Artie was in position, ready to help him, almost invisible in the darkness of the cave and hidden by the rocks, he stood in his turn and headed toward the professional assassin.

He moved closer to Finn, closer, closer until the other man finally noticed him – and grabbed his sidearm, but too late.

There was a BANG and a bullet pierced Finn's right arm and he cried out in pain, his gun clattering away on the rocky ground, sliding to the edge of the pool.

Blood was pooling on his shirt sleeve, dripping down onto his pants. Grimacing, he asked, both surprised and angry, "How the hell did you find me?"

Moving out from the rocks hiding him, Artemus joined his partner and, pointing his Colt at Finn too, said, "It was a coincidence. We were visiting friends on the Crow reservation when we heard that you were hiding in the vicinity. Finding you was only a matter of time. A warrior spotted you killing an elk; he followed you to the foot of the cliff and told us where you were. As luck would have it." His eyes grew cold. "Now, stand up! And don't try anything foolish, I won't hesitate to kill you." He held his gun steady on his ex- spy-partner, as the criminal stood in front of him, wincing. Finn glanced at his gun. "Don't even think about it." He told the ex-Confederate spy. "I have to bring you back to prison alive, that doesn't mean in one piece…"

Finn glared daggers at Artie. "Go to hell!" He growled. He took a step back, "Chance has always been on your side, Artemus, you're the luckiest man I know," he said before taking another step back – moving toward the pool of crystal clear water, lined with green luminescent algae. Toward his gun.

But a shot rang out. The loud detonation stopped him and he yelped feeling his right ear burn. He instinctively touched the top of it and found it sliced by the bullet. Then glanced at his bloody fingers, feeling blood running down the right side of his head.

His face hardening into an icy mask, Artie let out, "Ooops! Oh, I'm really sorry, I slipped." He sighed with exaggeration. "The trigger of my gun is very, very sensitive. I keep forgetting to fix it. An accident could happen any time…" He moved closer to Finn his jaw clenched in controlled anger. "Don't move Barney. Don't even breathe," he said, aiming his gun at the other man's head.

Finn gulped audibly.

Still stone-faced Artemus cocked the hammer of his Colt and continued, "Now listen to me, _traitor_. Show us the other exit because there's one, I'm sure. When we were still working together, you always found the right place to camp, or wait, or to get in position to strike the enemy – with a way to escape in case there was a problem. And, some habits die hard, right? Especially the ones that keep us alive. So where is it, Barney? Don't make me repeat it… the ground's slippery."

Impressed Jim smiled. He often forgot – like he just did - that Artemus Gordon, the gentleman could be a tough, uncompromising and intimidating person. A badass.

WWW

 _Later, in an ice field_

Freezing, harsh shivers raking through his body, Artie stopped next to an icy snow bank and turned his worried face to the graying and darkening sky overhead. Weather could change pretty fast in the mountains, he knew, and thought, dreading being caught in a blizzard again. The wind was harsh and the daylight was waning in spite of the fact that it was not the middle of the afternoon yet. They would soon need shelter from the rapidly worsening weather and the night's early arrival.

He sneezed, sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "I really hate cold!" he whispered. He blew on his fingers and shook his hands, trying to get the blood flowing in them again.

It didn't work.

He glanced around him for the nth time the cold wind biting at his skin. Finn, Jim and he were hiking on a treacherous ice field, layers of snow hiding deep, mortal crevasses.

Taking that way to get back to the valley was even more dangerous than climbing up the cliff, he continued to muse.

He shivered again and looked down at his gloved hands. The cold was numbing most of the pain but his head still throbbed. He couldn't feel his fingertips or his nose.

He joined the other two men, moving slowly, carefully in the thick snow expecting to fall in a crevasse with each step.

But he wasn't the one who fell in a crevasse. Suddenly, Finn let out a startled yelp and fell through the ground, disappearing from sight ahead of him.

He immediately stopped and watched Jim imitate him. Then, the opening started to move, widening, as chunks of ice crumbled down in the crevasse, burying Finn under tons of ice and snow.

Panicked, forgetting all caution and the crevasse that could open beneath their own feet, the two agents immediately ran on the right to bypass the hole which continued to widen, swallowing whole sections of ice topped with layers of snow, stretching across the landscape.

Spotting a group of dark gray rocks emerging from the ice, Jim said, "Artie! Let's go there!" and sprinted in that direction.

The two men climbed up on the clusters of rocks and collapsed to their knees, their chests heaving as they hissed a breath through their teeth - and watched the expanding crevasse suddenly still. The silence came back, deafening.

Looking at Jim, crouched at his side, Artie said, "I hate mountains," he managed through chattering teeth. He sneezed and sniffled. "Finn's dead, buried in an icy tomb."

Staring out at the white expanse in front of him, the icy wind rubbing his face raw, Jim said, "Our mission ends here. Let's get back to the valley before the night comes."

Artie nodded. "Good idea, there's a tempest coming. We won't last out here."

Leaving the clusters of rocks, they resumed their descent toward the valley that stretched out for several miles below them, and their progress was slow as they moved carefully, avoiding the fissures and cracks of the dangerous ice field.

It was the end of the afternoon, and giant snowflakes were whirling around them when they finally reached the base of the craggy cliff they had climbed up.

Both feeling relieved to be back at the starting point, intact! The two men headed toward the cave where Finn had hidden his horse.

Pointing at the entrance of the cave partially hidden with branches, Jim said, "Let's take Finn's horse to join Iron Bull. He won't need it now."

WWW

 _Much later, in Running Coyote's settlement,_

 _Under the Chief's tepee_

Huddled in warm blankets, naked because his clothes were drying on a rack placed next to the fire, Artemus sneezed twice and closed his bandaged hands (covered with layers of healing ointment) around the steaming wooden bowl that Jim was handing him. "Thanks!" he said as he accepted the bowl, blowing on it a little so it wouldn't burn his tongue. He coughed wetly, twice before continuing, "What's this?" He sniffed the liquid suspiciously, blowing on it lightly then and he proposed. "Herbal tisane?"

Shaking his head, Jim responded, " I don't know. It's a medicinal potion, I suppose. The medicine man, Spotted Wolf just told me that you had to drink this to get better." Then he re-wrapped his naked body up in his blanket. His clothes were drying too on a second rack settled next to the fire. "It's a good thing I never get sick. I'm immune to any germs."

Artie sighed. "Lucky you."

Still cold, the older man lifted his bowl of Crow's potion to his lips. He took a cautious sip, grimaced at the bitter taste and buried himself deeper into his warm blanket cocoon. "Gaah! It's awfully bitter!" he commented, but began to drink all of it nonetheless.

Smiling, Jim watched his partner drink the potion, grimacing, while rubbing his hands together and holding them out in front of the fire.

Still grimacing, Artie set down his empty bowl on the ground next to him and pulled the blanket around him tighter. "That thing is going to leave holes in my stomach!" he said.

Suddenly the flap covering the circular opening of the cone shaped tent was pushed to the side and frigid air swirled into the enclosed space accompanied by a rush of snow… preceding White Crow closely followed by Yellow Bird.

Outside a fierce blizzard raged on.

After a moment of surprise, grinning, Artie exclaimed, "White Crow! What a charming surprise! What are you doing here?"

The female warrior dropped her coat whitened with snow to the ground and said, "I wanted to see you one last time, before you leave the reservation. I didn't know if you were still here… and you are. I brought Yellow Bird with me; she wanted to see James, again, before he leaves with you."

Smiling broadly, Jim looked up at Half-Moon's lovely assistant, "It's a pleasure to see you again, Yellow Bird," he said.

The young woman shrugged her coat off and dropped it on White Crow's. "It's a pleasure to see you too again, Íihkeshíilishpite."

Surprised, Artie looked at Jim, "Íihkeshíilishpite, Brown Chin?"

Jim smiled and nodded before running his fingers over his brown beard. "You're Strong Bear, I am Brown Chin," he just said.

Artie attempted to stand but stopped mid-action when he saw White Crow frown and point at the buffalo furs covering the ground. "Okay, I'm sitting."

She sat cross-legged beside Artie and pressed a cool hand to his flushed face feeling the burn of his skin. "You're sick." Then she ran her hand through his disheveled hair matted with sweat. "Very sick, feverish." She lifted Artie's left hand and observed the bandage. There were stains of greasy, brown ointment on it. "You hurt your hands. What happened?"

Smiling reassuringly, Artie waved a dismissive hand. "Long story short, rope burns and scrapes, they will heal. As for my cold, it's nothing," he said blinking at her with watery, red-rimmed eyes.

She scooted closer to Strong Bear and leaned in to kiss his lips. "I missed you," she said.

It quickly moved from a gentle press of lips to wild open-mouthed kisses with a possessive White Crow running her tongue over Artie's lips and delving into his mouth.

Sitting on Jim's lap, Yellow Bird placed a gentle kiss on Jim's forehead. "I missed you too," she said before tracing Jim's bearded jawline. "Scratchy."

Glancing at Artemus and White Crow now mashing their lips together in a bruising kiss, and before it became more intimate, Jim said, "I'm going to find another tepee for the night… See you tomorrow, good night." Then still naked and wrapped in a blanket, he stood, taking Yellow Bird with him.

Barely registering what Jim had told him, Artie let out a sound of approval and pulled White Crow into his arms while his partner and Yellow Bird left the tepee. "You're going to be sick too," he said, the sound of his voice altered by congestion.

Shoving Artemus down onto his back, White Crow quickly un-blanketed him and straddled his bare legs. "I never get sick. I'm going to take care of you," she said.

He opened his arms wide, offering himself. "I'm yours." Shivering, he rubbed his arms… before White Crow did that for him.

Outside the tepee the cold wind blew and whistled in the dark night.

WWW

 _The next morning_

Inside the little tepee the warm, soft light of the crackling fire cast a gentle glow over the contented couple as they held each other, trading gentle kisses and caresses.

White Crow broke the last kiss and moved to his neck. "We shouldn't have made love," she said before biting and licking at the sensitive flesh. "You're now very weak, Strong Bear." She brushed a fingertip on his temple, seeing how tired his brown eyes, bloodshot and sunken in, looked. "You're not going to be able to leave for days, many days…"

She didn't hide how pleased she was at that. She was beaming.

Pressing himself against White Crow's nude body, Artemus smiled and said, "Maybe you should call me Weak Bear now." He kissed the tip of her nose. "That was wonderful. But I have to go, cold or not. I accomplished my mission."

He sneezed again and sniffled, trying to get his right nostril working again. Without avail. A cold shiver took him over and he gasped.

She nudged him onto his back and settled on his legs. "You can't ride in your state. You could fall and break your ankle, or your leg…" She paused, thinking that it was a good way – but a painful one for Artemus – to keep him longer here, with her. "Maybe we should ride your horse, to see if you can stay on your saddle without toppling down to the ground."

He chuckled and winced. He had a massive, pounding headache on top of his stuffy nose. "I know what you're thinking… bad, bad White Crow. I will be care…" He was interrupted by a wet coughing fit, and quickly covered his mouth with his hands as his lungs exploded. The coughing went on for another minute or so before slowing. He coughed one final time and grimaced. His sore, dry throat was burning and he rubbed it. "On second thought… I'm too sick to ride…" he said, his voice a raspy croak.

Leaning toward Artemus, White Crow whispered, "Yes you are," she said, combing his hair sticking out in various directions with her fingers.

He chuckled. "Trying to make me presentable? Oh, boy! I probably look awful… Pale skin, red and snotty or runny nose, sunken, glassy eyes, dark beard on my weary face…" He ran his fingers over the stubble that had grown in the past two weeks, finding it coarse under his fingertips.

She moved backward, using her index finger to circle her lover's navel. "I love your beard." And she kissed his scruffy chin.

He smiled. "You told me that, the last time I was with you… I like to have a beard too, but after a while it itches, and I can't get used to it, so I shave it. " But he didn't tell her he shaved it too because his beard had patches of gray in it and it reminded him he was getting old. And he didn't want to because getting old equaled being forced to leave Jim, his surrogate brother and his adventurous life, to take a dull desk job in Washington. It would be the end of Artemus Gordon the Special agent of the Secret Service. Period. He thought, while scratching the itchy beard on his cheeks. 'But you're 15 year older than Jim, so one day, you won't have any other choice but to start a new life, unless you resign before arthritis can…"

White Crow brushed her knuckles gently over Artie's facial hairs, interrupting Artemus's musing, loving to run her fingers through his beard. "You shouldn't," she said.

Placing her hands on Artie's hairy torso, White Crow ran circles there with her thumbs and she whispered, "Next time you visit me, I want you to have a beard…"

He chuckled softly, touching the side of White Crow's face, stroking her long hair then, "I will have one, I promise, to please you," he said.

Smirking, White Crow wrapped herself around Artie, "There's another way to please me…and you," and Artie felt his cheeks burn even hotter.

He nuzzled his beard against White Crow's neck and the Crow woman hummed in contentment. "That's pleasurable, but I wasn't thinking about that," she said.

Smiling, Artemus wrapped his arms around White Crow's waist. "I know." He brushed her hair out of her face, kissing her softly.

White Crow tangled both hands in Artie's roughly combed hair, keeping her mouth on him, moaning at the scratch of his bushy beard on her lips.

She pulled away from the passionate kiss and said, "Yellow Bird loves James's beard too," then she placed her lips against Artie's Adam's apple, before nipping the protrusion. "It has a different color than yours, that's why she calls him Brown Chin."

Smiling, Artie said, "I understand now why she calls him Íihkeshíilishpite. It's a beautiful name." He added, as the Crow woman he loved moved back, starting to trail kisses down his neck. "I need to bathe… perhaps you could help me? My whole body hurts. I can barely move." In response, White Crow bit hard where Strong Bear's shoulder and neck met and he groaned. "Is that a yes or a no?"

She continued downward and as she leaned down to suck a mark above the man's navel. "Later, be patient," she said.

He sighed. "I'm not a patient man."

She moved onto her knees and chuckled as he placed a quick kiss on his lover's lips. "We have the whole day, my daxpitchée (bear)."

He chuckled, "I look like one with my beard and I smell like one too…"

Smiling, White Crow waived a finger. "Later, for now I'm going to make love to you." Then, she pulled the blankets over them as she nestled in close and draped herself across Artemus, wrapping them both up.

The fire continued to crackle.

WWW

 _A week later_

Looking behind him, above his shoulder at White Crow waving her hand in goodbye, Artie swallowed. "I'm going to miss her so much," he said to Jim.

Patting Artie's knee in a comforting gesture, Jim said, "I'm going to miss Yellow Bird too. But I'm not in love with her…unlike you with White Crow. It's going to be hard, but you will come back." He smiled. "We will come back, because I want to see Yellow Bird again." And he glanced at the younger Crow woman standing beside White Crow. He raised his hand and she imitated him. "We'll come back, buddy."

He kicked Blackjack's sides sending him galloping.

Rubbing's Mo's neck, Artie said, "Let's go back home, Mo." Then he joined Jim, with Lockpick following the Cheyenne horse.

Tbc.


	6. Tag

**THE NIGHT OF THE PEACEMAKER**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **TAG**

 _Washington D.C._

 _Two weeks later_

The two men had reached the rear platform of the Wanderer when they discovered a big packet sitting on the metallic floor.

Frowning in suspicion Jim picked it up with caution, touched it gingerly and said, "It's soft, do you think a bomb can be soft Artie?"

Artie shrugged. "Everything's possible," he replied.

Once in the parlor car Jim and Artie were welcomed by the cats meowing loudly and slaloming between their legs.

Leaning forward, Artemus scooped up Aztec and placed the young cat on his shoulder and smiled when the feline nuzzled his ears, purring.

Both AG and Marmalade sat on the work table, watching the packet curiously and they sniffed at it when Jim placed it there.

He slowly opened it.

Surprised, Jim and Artie opened their eyes wide when a simple dark blue sack-coat with 4 brass buttons appeared from the folds of the brown paper, old, stained with large brownish spots. Jim continued to remove the paper protecting the Union uniform and revealed a pair of sky blue baggy wool trousers of the cavalry cut with pockets and the yellow stripe down the leg covered with lots of blood that had long dried and a forage cap with a floppy crown, old too and dusty.

It was as if the uniform had been soaked in blood, Jim thought.

Frowning puzzled, Jim said, "It's a Union soldier's uniform, an old one, from the war judging by its state… It's covered with stains, blood stains, lots of them… " He lifted it and frowned, "Why send us that?" Taking the hat, he looked inside to see if there was a name and read two initials: "AG."

Hearing his name, the cat let out an interrogative meow, and Artemus shivered looking pale and haggard. "It's my uniform," he said. "The one I wore after the Confederates tortured me… the one that Finn put on my bloodied, naked body, oh God!"

Images of his terrible ordeal flooded his mind. His heart started pounding against his ribcage, and the blood roared fiercely in his ears.

Looking at his partner now pale as a ghost, Jim caught Artie's elbow as the other man swayed on unstable legs. "It's okay buddy, I've got you," he said. He led him to the couch and noticed his trembling hands. "Easy, calm down, it's over."

Aztec leaped on her owner's lap.

His eyes haunted, Artie rasped, "It's my uniform, the one I was wearing when that patrol found me… " and took the young cat in his arms, kissing its small furred head.

Glancing at the blood-covered uniform Jim said, "All that blood… You were bleeding to death Artie. I don't know how you managed to survive…"

Curling himself around the British Shorthair, Artie said, "I don't know either. In my state, I should have died. I don't remember anything after Barney put me on the horse. When I woke up if I can say so, I was lying on a bed under General Grant's tent. I was given a new uniform, and I don't know what happened to the old one – the one that has been sent to me."

Frowning, Jim stood and said, "Who did that to you? It's torturing you again!" He searched the packet and found a piece of paper folded in two underneath the pants. He hurried to unfolded it and read the signature. "It's from Loveless."

Both men were stunned.

Blinking, sitting on the couch, Artie asked, "What? Loveless? He had my uniform? Why? And where and when did he get it? What for?"

Still frowning, but in puzzlement this time, Jim said, "Let's find out." He cleared his throat and read the letter aloud, "Dear Mr. West and Mr. Gordon, first of all I want to tell you that I will make you pay – dearly – to have failed in my plan to eliminate President Grant. But this is not the purpose of this letter, so we will talk about it later, face to face." He paused. "We have been warned, Artie."

Marmalade sensing that her owner was perturbed jumped on Artemus's lap and rubbed herself against the human's chest, purring.

Focused on Loveless's words, Artie absent-mindedly petted his young cat.

Jim continued, "Mr. Gordon, I have been interested in you for a long time, since the war. I heard about you after a man called Barney Finn – an ex-Union spy – a man you know well, joined my band of counterfeiters and later became an assassin working for me."

Frowning, Artie said, "I remember Barney telling us that he had worked for counterfeiters during the war… and Loveless was his boss!"

Petting a meowing AG's back with one hand, Jim said. "And Loveless made a fortune with counterfeited money!..." He paused and continued, "Finn told me a lot about you. He told me what a thespian you were, a very good one who specialized in disguise, he told me about your brilliant intellect, about your scientific mind, and your genius for extraordinary inventions, he told me how you were brave and noble, and I became attached to you Mr. Gordon…"

Artie groaned. "I know now why Loveless loves playing his games with me first. He has a twisted sick affection for me."

Jim nodded and continued to read, "I started to keep a discreet eye on you since that time. It wasn't easy, it was the war, there was chaos everywhere and you were a very good spy, rendering you almost invisible. Almost. I had my own people spying on you and making reports to me. One of my men was spying on you, from afar when Finn betrayed you and his uniform. He watched what happened, but didn't intervene. He would have been killed by the others, even if, like them, he was wearing a gray uniform. Those men didn't want any witness, because instead of 'having fun' with you they should have delivered you to their superiors. They could face grave problems. But, when Finn left you alone, before galloping away, he joined you and led you to the Union lines, to save you. You were barely conscious, so you probably don't remember anything…"

Standing, Artemus headed toward the sideboard. He opened the doors at the bottom and pulled out a bottle of whisky and a glass from the shelf. "I know now what happened," he said placing it on the table. "How I ended up behind our lines…" He poured the amber liquid into the glass and added, "One of Loveless's spies saved my life. That's incredible."

He took a sip, and then gulped down the liquor. He sat down in the green chair and poured himself a second glass of whisky. He downed it.

Looking at Loveless's letter, Jim read the next paragraph: "I asked one of my men, who had infiltrated Dr. Henderson's team to bring me your bloodied uniform – because I wanted a souvenir of you, in case you didn't survive. Fortunately for me, you survived…"

Pouring himself a new glass, Artemus paused, said, "I can't believe Loveless saved me…" Then, in a single, long gulp, he downed the contents of it.

Frowning, worried, Jim proposed, "You should stop drinking buddy, if you want to go out tonight with me to the theater…"

Artie huffed. "I have a high alcohol tolerance. I can drink a whole bottle of whisky without being intoxicated a bit, so… Read the rest of the letter, please."

Jim complied, "Okay… I decided to give you back your uniform after what you did to me: make my plan fail, in order to hurt you, because I know that this story still haunts you. I hope you will have many nightmares and that your life will be poisoned by the horrific ordeal you went through, for quite some time, and I know it will."

Tightening his jaw, Artie suppressed a curse. "I hate him," he said, his shoulders slumped. He blinked. "I don't know how it's possible… but I think I'm tipsy after a few glasses of whisky."

Jim smiled. "Maybe because you didn't drink a single drop of alcohol when you were in a coma for two months, buddy."

He thought about telling Artie what Henderson had told him about the causes of heart attacks, but it wasn't the right time.

Upset, his brow furrowed, Artie nodded. "That's why, you're right." He sighed. "I hope it's not permanent… Let's hear the rest of the letter…"

Sitting on a chair beside his best friend, Jim continued to read the letter, "And, as you will be miserable, you partner will be too – that's perfect. Speaking of Mr. West, I took interest in him at the end of the war, after he became your best friend. He was like a 19th century knight, noble, courageous, valiant, fearless and blameless. But it's another story. Be seeing you, Miguelito Quixote Loveless. P.S. You will have news from me soon."

Pouring himself a new shot of liquor, Artie repeated, "I hate him." Then he downed his fourth shot of whisky. "I really hate him."

Pulling the bottle of whisky out of Artemus's reach, earning him a glassy glare Jim said, "No more whisky for you buddy. I think you should take a nap to sleep off the alcohol you drank while I'm preparing dinner. Don't worry; I won't burn down your precious galley."

Standing, Artie croaked, "I hope not," and flopped onto the couch a few seconds later, bonelessly. He buried his face in the pillow.

Sitting on the couch beside Artie, Jim pressed his partner's broad shoulder in a comforting gesture. "You won't let Loveless poison your life like he hopes right?"

Petting Marmalade and then Aztec, both crouched sphinx style on top of his chest, Artie shook his head. "No. I will think about it, for a few days… then like before, I will put what happened in a corner of my memory, and I will move on."

Releived, Jim smiled and said, "Okay… and I know something that can help you to 'evacuate' those terrible images from your mind. Remember what happened with White Crow and you… and use it to replace your nightmares, dream about your next leave that you will spend at her side – starting in three weeks."

Blinking dazedly Artie smiled. "Yes, three weeks."

Glancing at the cardboard box sitting on the armchair, Jim said, "You know, you could try your new dress tonight, at the theater…"

Closing his eyes, too tired to keep them open – and lulled by the cats purrs, he whispered, "Blonde, light brown, brunette or red haired?"

Standing, Jim said, "What about being Miss Artemis McGordon again?"

Nodding, Artie slurred, "'Kay, love her," then he fell asleep.

The end

Thank you for reading, please leave some feedback.


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